Stacy Bannerman: Author

GETTING PERSONAL: Citizen Soldiers Battle To Return To Work

28 February 2008

By Victoria E. Knight

Dow Jones News Service

NEW YORK - For citizen soldiers, returning from combat and rebuilding the professional lives they left behind presents a new battle.

As the fifth anniversary of the Iraq war nears, support for returning soldiers from businesses remains spotty. One in five U.S. troops in Iraq and Afghanistan are National Guard members and Reservists. And 54% were working for an employer prior to activation. Federal law requires there to be a job waiting when they return.

Large employers, such as Microsoft (MSFT) and Booz Allen Hamilton Inc., with military employees and clients, have dedicated programs for reintegrating veterans. But small employers with limited means can feel ill-equipped to act.

Fortunately, there are resources small businesses can tap, including free online tools on applicable federal laws, and inexpensive reintegration programs.

The U.S. Small Business Administration's Patriot Express initiative (www.sba.gov/patriotexpress/index.html) provides advice on preparing for deployments, including free or low-cost online training and business counseling. In addition, low-interest loans of up to $500,000 are available to veterans and members of the military community wanting to establish or expand small businesses.

Other initiatives can include simply celebrating troops' return to work, according to a free employer guide published Thursday by The Workplace Warrior Think Tank, which comprises the Disability Management Employer Coalition, a non-profit employer association, and disability insurers, The Hartford Financial Services Group Inc. (HIG), MetLife Inc. (MET) and Unum Group (UNM).

Educating supervisors about potential red flags - and internal and external conduits to care - and developing veterans mentoring programs are among its recommendations (www.dmec.org).

"The U.S. military involvement in Iraq and Afghanistan has created long-term medical and disability issues for returning veterans," says Marcia Carruthers, chief executive of the DMEC. "To retain these valuable employees and benefit from their knowledge, abilities and experience, a comprehensive response is needed by employers."

One of the guide's authors, Andy Gilbert, a former tactical planner for the air war in Operation Desert Storm who is an associate at Booz Allen Hamilton, says employers often underestimate the psychological adjustment involved, even for troops without health problems.

"One day you're in desert camies (camouflage gear), the next day you're in a suit. It's a huge culture shock," he says.

In a war zone you have a mission with specific goals and you're operating in a hierarchical structure. By contrast, the workplace is collaborative and there's not the sense of urgency as lives aren't hanging in the balance.

Military veterans from any war who've already made the transition can provide valuable advice to recent returnees about the challenges and coping strategies.

"Virtually any employer can provide mentoring by other veterans - at any level and for very little cost," says Gilbert, a founding member of Booz Allen Hamilton's Armed Services Forum.

Managers can support veterans by giving them meaningful work and checking in regularly on progress. At Booz Allen, managers typically hold professional development meetings with employees once a month, but they have contact with returning troops once a week, he says.

Around 90% of employers who provide health benefits offer some free counseling services to employees and their families. While the programs might not be equipped to deal with combat-related stress, they can be a lifeline to family members experiencing personal and financial stress, experts say. But employers need to do a better job of publicizing the counseling.

Combat can deal heavy physical and psychological blows. Four out of ten combat veterans treated by the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs - about 120,000 individuals - have been diagnosed as suffering from stress or mental disorders ranging from mild to severe. Around half have received a preliminary diagnosis of post traumatic stress disorder, PTSD, which is treatable (www.va.gov). Only 59% of small firms with 3 to 199 workers offer health insurance, and many plans don't offer mental health benefits.

Combat veterans, including citizen soldiers, can get treatment through the Veterans Affairs healthcare system. In January the period of eligibility for benefits was extended from 2 to 5 years for all combat veterans who served on active duty after Nov. 11, 1998, and were discharged under other than dishonorable conditions. Cost-free care and medications are provided for conditions potentially related to combat service, including PTSD.

"Employers can help get the word out," says Dr. Ira Katz, the VA's deputy chief patient care services officer for mental health.

Veterans can access care through the VA's medical centers and clinics as well as Vet Centers. Over the past 2 1/2 years the VA has hired about 4,000 new mental health experts and the annual budget for mental health services has increased from $2 billion in fiscal 2001 to about $3.5 billion now, he says.

Stacy Bannerman, the author of "When the War Came Home," and a Washington National Guardman's wife, says long waiting lists, inconvenient opening hours - often weekday-working hours - and limited care in rural areas present barriers to care from VA facilities.

Bannerman, who is testifying Thursday before the House's Veterans Affairs Subcommittee on Health, is leading a grassroots effort to create a new model of post-combat care for citizen soldiers and their families (http://sanctuaryvf.org).

Employers need to familiarize themselves with their federal legal responsibilities to avoid the threat of future litigation. The Uniformed Services Employment and Reemployment Rights Act, USERRA, requires employers to promptly reinstate individuals into a position with the same seniority, status and pay they would have attained had they remained continuously employed. The Department of Labor has developed an interactive tool, USERRA elaws Advisors, to help employers and workers understand their respective rights (www.dol.gov/elaws/userra.htm).

(Victoria E. Knight is a Getting Personal columnist who writes about the financial implications of health care issues.)

By Victoria E. Knight, Dow Jones Newswires; 201-938-2438; victoria.knight@dowjones.com

Making a House Call on Congress
By Rose Aguilar, AlterNet. Posted July 28, 2006.

Military families are determined to bring their troops back home -- even if they have to talk to every politician in Washington.

When Congress voted to "stay the course" in Iraq on June 15, many military families were furious.

"I watched the entire mock debate on C-Span for 13 hours," says Stacy Bannerman, a member of Military Families Speak Out (MFSO). "That day, I decided that if they wanted to 'stay the course,' they would have to explain their rationale to my face."

A week later, Bannerman left Seattle for Washington, D.C., where she launched Operation House Call, an MFSO campaign to highlight the ongoing human toll in Iraq. Since June 22, Bannerman, whose husband served in Balat, Iraq, from March 2004 to March 2005, has been joined by over 50 families of U.S. troops who are serving, have served, or were killed in Iraq.

So far, the families have met with several politicians, including Sen. Barack Obama, D-Ill., Sen. Maria Cantwell, D-Wash., Rep. Dennis Kucinich, D-Ohio, Rep. Maxine Waters, D-Calif., and Rep. Jim McGovern, D-Mass. They're hoping to meet with Sen. Hillary Clinton in the coming days, but say they have yet to hear back from Sen. Barbara Boxer, D-Calif., Rep. Nancy Pelosi, D-Calif., and Sen. John Warner, R-Va., chair of the Armed Services Committee.

"When a handful of members of Congress have loved ones in the military, they have no idea what staying the course looks like," says Bannerman, who has written a book about her experiences, titled "When the War Came Home." "This war is being waged on .4 percent of the American population. The rest of the people in this country -- 99.6 percent -- have no connection to the war. They are not being asked to sacrifice or allowed to see the human cause of this war."

For many of the families, Operation House Call is their first foray into political activism. "I never even voted until 2004," says 44-year-old Georgia Stillwell. "I never registered. I never cared. I was as apathetic as they come. And then it got personal."

Stillwell's 22-year-old son spent his 19th and 20th birthdays in Iraq, and is now dealing with a severe case of post-traumatic stress disorder. In January, he drove his car over an embankment in excess of 120 mph. Miraculously, he survived the crash. "I know I should be grateful he's not dead, but he's dead inside," says Stillwell.

On July 12, Stillwell shared her son's story during an emotional 30-minute meeting with House Speaker Dennis Hastert, R-Ill. "The congressman compared Iraq to a football game about changing strategies," she says. "I touched his arm and said, 'Congressman, children don't die in football games.' He said nothing. I also showed him a picture of a friend's son who was killed in Iraq. He was unblinking and unfeeling."

After the meeting, Hastert's press secretary said the speaker thought Stillwell was a "very patriotic woman who was proud of her son's service in Iraq."

"That's amazing, right? He just called an anti-war protestor patriotic," said Stillwell laughing.

When the families aren't meeting with politicians asking them to bring the troops home, they're braving the heat on the steps of the Senate Russell Building. There they surround themselves with footwear -- one pair of military boots for every soldier who has died since June 15, and a pair of shoes for each Iraqi civilian who has died.

"I came to D.C. decades ago as a child, and had anybody told me then that I would be spending the better part of my summer in the sauna that is D.C. standing out here, having meetings with politicians, many of whom don't want to know the truth, dealing with staffers who snicker when we come into their offices carrying empty combat boots, I wouldn't have believed them," says Bannerman.

The MFSO members also ask passersby to sign postcards supporting an end to the war. The families then hand-deliver the postcards to senators and congressmen. Stilwell says interacting with the locals and tourists has been an eye-opening experience.

"Bush supporters often say, 'I'm sick of you people.' They look at us with such hatred. I don't get it. We have military recruiter flyers for them," she says. "But what's even worse are the people who won't even look at us. They won't meet our gaze or look at the boots, and they're mostly corporate people."

The families say they've also received a number of surprisingly positive reactions. "A few congressional staffers have stopped by to say they're in full support of what we're doing even though their bosses aren't," says Nancy Lessin, MFSO co-founder.

Despite its efforts, Operation House Call has received little media coverage. MFSO released a second announcement on July 25 hoping to garner attention from the national media.

A number of families from around the country will continue meeting with politicians until they leave D.C. for summer recess on Aug. 4. The Waste family wants to talk about the impact the war has had on their three sons and two grandchildren. Together, they have spent 81 months in Iraq. One son is currently deployed with the First Armored Division; another son is scheduled to return to Iraq this fall with the First Cavalry Division.

Cathy Smith hopes to talk about her eldest son, who was paralyzed from the chest down by an AK-47 round while serving in Iraq, and her middle son who is currently serving with the Army.

Once the families leave Washington, D.C., Lessin says they'll follow their elected officials home. "Our 26 chapters will jump into action and meet with politicians in their home districts, at their offices, their homes and vacation homes. This war doesn't end for us. We can't take a vacation from it."

Rose Aguilar is a San Francisco-based journalist who is writing a book about her road trip through the "red states."

Iraq Debate Involves Constellation of Voices

by Dan Robinson, Voice of America
June 22nd, 2006

Robinson report - Download (mp3) 1179kb

Over the past two weeks, lawmakers have engaged in one of the most significant periods of debate on Iraq since U.S. and coalition forces ousted former Iraqi dictator Saddam Hussein in early 2003. The debate in Washington and on a national scale, involves a constellation of voices and faces, encompassing members of Congress, President Bush and senior administration officials, and families of U.S. soldiers in Iraq.

From a two-day debate in the House of Representatives to important votes in the Senate, Iraq remained the focus of attention for a Congress that, if current polls are any forecast, faces a good prospect of undergoing a major political shift in legislative elections in November.

From left: Elizabeth Frederick, Al Zappala and Stacy Bannerman

A collection of voices is contributing to the Iraq debate, seeking to sway public opinion. Outside the U.S. Capitol, one of those belongs to Al Zappala, whose son Sherwood, a Pennsylvania National Guardsman, was killed in Iraq two years ago.

"Bring the troops home now," said Al Zappala. "Take care of them when they get here. And never, ever again send them to a war based on lies."

As Zappala stood holding army boots symbolizing the 2,500 American soldiers killed in Iraq, Republicans and Democrats engaged in rhetorical battles over Iraq policy.

Any timetable for a U.S. troop withdrawal, Republicans controlling the House and Senate insist, would simply give encouragement to insurgents and terrorists in Iraq.

Senator John McCain rejects the case made by proponents of a withdrawal timetable that the U.S. military presence is responsible for ongoing conflict.

"We must stay in Iraq until the government there is fully functioning [with] security forces that can keep the insurgents at bay and ultimately defeat them," said John McCain.

Senator John McCain (file photo)

Opposition to establishing any formal plan for withdrawal from Iraq was not limited to Republicans.

While deriding what she calls the Bush administration's failed status quo approach, Democrat Senator Hillary Clinton warns against any precipitous U.S. pullout.

"I simply do not believe it is a strategy or a solution for the president to continue declaring an open-ended and unconditional commitment, nor do I believe it is a solution or a strategy to set a date certain for withdrawal without regard to the consequences," said Hillary Clinton.

As opposing sides argue about the correct course in Iraq, two Republicans injected an interesting twist.

Senator Rick Santorum and Congressman Pete Hoekstra, released what they said is new evidence that U.S. and coalition forces had found weapons of mass destruction, the main reason cited by President Bush to justify the invasion of Iraq.

"The idea that, as my colleagues have repeatedly said in this debate on the other side of the aisle, that there are no weapons of mass destruction is in fact, false," said Rick Santorum. "We have found over 500 weapons of mass destruction, and in fact have found that there are additional chemical weapons still in the country that need to be recovered."

Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld said in a Thursday news conference that the 500 chemical-filled shells did constitute weapons of mass destruction.

"They are weapons of mass destruction, they are harmful to human beings," said Donald Rumsfeld. "And they have been found and they had not been reported by Saddam Hussein as he inaccurately alleged that he had reported all of his weapons, and they are still being found and discovered."

However, critics noted that the munitions involved were degraded shells dating from before the first Gulf war, and in any case were not the type of weapons of mass destruction Americans were told justified the use of military force in Iraq.

Outside the Capitol, Stacy Bannerman, a member of the Military Families Speak Out group, spoke to reporters.

"The information that has been provided to justify an unnecessary war of choice has repeatedly been proven false," said Stacy Bannerman. "We need to end the war and bring our troops home now."

As statements by Democrat and Republican leaders underscored, the week's events highlighted the extent to which the political stakes regarding Iraq have risen even further.

House [Republican] Majority Leader John Boehner spoke during that chamber's two day debate.

"If we had adopted the irrational policies of those who lack commitment to winning this fight, the terrorist al-Zarqawi would still be alive and plotting attacks against Iraqis and Americans," said John Boehner.

House Minority Leader Nancy Pelosi repeated Democrat assertions that Republicans have pursued a failed strategy in Iraq.

"The American people are now saying that it was wrong to go into the war in Iraq," said Nancy Pelosi. "So their credibility is on the line. It is like them to try to turn the table, but Democrats will not be intimidated by them."

During a visit to Hungary, President Bush reiterated his intention to continue supporting Iraq's government.

"Our commitment is certain," said President Bush. "Our objective is clear. The new Iraqi government will show the world the promise of a thriving democracy in the heart of the Middle East."

Iraq is certain to be a major factor in the debate that promises to intensify on the way to November mid-term elections that will determine control of Congress, with after-effects impacting the 2008 presidential race.

The Seattle Seven ride again, pursuing a quarry more elusive than weapons of mass destruction: the truth.

This local posse wants to peg down Sen. Maria Cantwell about her views on Iraq -- why we are there and how do we get out -- and for good reason.

Cantwell voted for the war that has become a "Viet-Slavia" -- a deepening quagmire like Vietnam with the sectarian bloodshed of the former Yugoslavia after Tito.

The incumbent Democrat is the only member of the Washington delegation who gave a nod to the war but refuses to publicly cop to having regrets. Facing re-election in the fall, Cantwell ought to come clean about her decision that, given the "facts" then on hand, seemed palatable to many. Like other politicos who got caught up in hawk mode then, she could confess to seeing the light and move on.

The group gets its spark from Howard Gale, a research psychologist who last year organized the Iraq Veterans Forum at Town Hall in Seattle.

Flanking him is Joe Colgan, a Kent peace activist whose son, Ben, an Army lieutenant, was killed in Iraq in 2003, and Joshua Farris, an Army specialist who spent time in Iraq from April to October 2003.

There's Richard Gamble, pastor of the Keystone United Church of Christ, co-chairman of the Interfaith Network of Concern for the People of Iraq, and Adam Garcia, who gave voice to peace issues as a local student activist.

Rounding out the seven are Stacy Bannerman, the wife of a U.S. soldier who served in Iraq, and Abe Osheroff, a 91-year-old peace activist.
The Seattle Seven ask the necessary questions that should be put to elected officials. When the answers are either insufficient or lacquered with drippy spin, these crusaders are committed enough to transform thought into action.

These were the folks who staged a peaceful sit-in at Cantwell's 32nd-floor offices in the Federal Building on April 25, three days after Sen. John Kerry gave a speech calling for the withdrawal of troops because we are "imprisoned in a failed policy."

For 27 hours the group occupied the site in a symbolic protest, but they didn't get to share air with the senator. Cantwell wasn't on the premises. The group spent time with her press secretary and chief aide who were nice enough to offer water and use of the loo.

No one was arrested, which is good. But not much of substance came from the act of civil disobedience, which is not so good. The TV news crews packed up their gear and went home after the Seattle Seven stood up and walked out.

Here's what quietly happened next: Cantwell agreed to meet with the activists May 6 in a tête-à-tête that unfolded over two hours. The senator's staff had been given questions beforehand by the activists in the hope that Cantwell would chew them over and offer a thoughtful response. The queries included:

Do you agree with Sen. Kerry on this deadline? If not, what do you propose? Do you envision combat troops remaining in Iraq?

Do permanent U.S. bases enter into your consideration? Has the Veterans Affairs budget kept pace with the veterans' needs? How much is this war costing overall, in particular Washington state taxpayers? What is the situation with Iraq civilians detained by U.S. forces? Should there be investigations?

The questions were good as was a goal of the activists -- to encourage Cantwell, who can at times come off as soulless and clinical, to have a public forum on Iraq.

Gale recalled that Cantwell began to question the group's questions. At one point she challenged their characterization of Kerry's position on troop withdrawal even though the group says it was echoing what Kerry wrote in an Op-Ed piece.

"She said he really didn't mean that," Gale said. "She kept saying that is not what she understood."

Such bizarro-world exchanges with Cantwell left the activists feeling fuzzed up, as if the senator were using debate-style tricks to keep them off balance. They felt as if they were in Alice in Wonderland and had just plummeted down the rabbit hole.

Undaunted by the upshot of the meeting, they now vow to keep pressing their case. Cantwell shouldn't be surprised if another sit-in comes her way soon, or if the Seattle Seven sidle up to her along the campaign trail.

Cantwell vaguely talks about 2006 being "a year of big transition" for the United States in Iraq. Her lack of candor on the war has me wondering if the bigger transition might not be a personal one in which voters use the ballot box to speak truth to her power.

P-I columnist Robert L. Jamieson Jr. can be reached at 206-448-8125 or robertjamieson@seattlepi.com.

Choose Your Battle
She's a Pacifist. He's A Warrior. But Even In the Shadow of Iraq, Their Love Soldiers On.

One minute Stacy Bannerman is stuffing envelopes to promote an upcoming peace workshop. The next her husband, Lorin, unexpectedly appears in her office.

Does she have to ask? Don't they both know their life is poised to turn completely strange at any moment? Possibly even tragic?

She dodges his attempt to hug. She doesn't want him to touch her yet, as if touching will make this news real.

Yes, yes, yes: Lorin's National Guard unit just got called up. And in a deep part of him that he doesn't reveal to her this instant, he's kind of looking forward to it. Stacy, on the other hand, is a professional peace and justice activist. Her emotions are much closer to the surface, and she's freaking out.

It's the fall of 2003, seven months after the war began, outside Seattle where they live. They are the warrior and the antiwarrior, and their years of living dangerously are about to begin.

She watches him drive away in his new white Kia Sorento. The planet-hugger in her never approved of his buying that SUV. Now, as her man prepares for mobilization to the land of oil and blood, she sees the manufacturer's name and thinks: "Killed in action."

The Bannermans are like nobody else and everybody else with this country at war. Stacy, 40, and Lorin, 45, dramatize an extreme version of the conversations, tensions, compromises and leaps of faith taking place across America in families, neighborhoods, schools, workplaces and political parties. As the death count rises, public support for the war plummets, two black lines on a neat, precise graph.

But in the places where people actually live their lives and wrestle with their differences, there are nuances in how they feel about the war and shades of gray in their reactions to each other. Only where there is no dialogue is there no nuance, and the warriors and antiwarriors think the worst of each other.

Stacy and Lorin couldn't afford not to talk. Beneath their apparent polarization, they share a messy truth of nuances and grays. She is a pacifist, against all war, convinced this war was built on lies. Yet her admiration for those who choose to wear the uniform has only increased, even though she knows some soldiers -- including, she would learn in anguished phone calls from Iraq, her husband -- have been connected to the deaths of Iraqi civilians.

She has become a second-tier celebrity in the peace movement. Overshadowed by the controversial wattage of Cindy Sheehan, Stacy is nevertheless a featured speaker in marches, rallies and caravans across the country, a leading advocate with the group Military Families Speak Out, which claims about 3,000 members. She recently published a book about her experience as a soldier's antiwar wife, "When the War Came Home."

Lorin felt the almost boyish appeal of the military when he was young and signed up for the Guard while in college. During his year-long deployment in Iraq, he harbored increasing doubts over the reasons for the invasion but never wavered in his devotion to his mission. He is, he says, "glad" to have fought in Iraq, where he was a sergeant first class leading 34 soldiers in a mortar platoon. His mission -- to beat back the insurgents lobbing rockets and mortar shells in his sector -- was accomplished, and he earned a Bronze Star for, in the words of the citation, "incredible speed and deadly accurate response" in "taking the fight to the enemy."

Just a good soldier, escaping the limelight that discovered his wife -- unless you happened to be in the chow hall at Logistical Support Area Anaconda north of Baghdad in early March 2005 when "Hardball" came on, and you put two and two together. Chris Matthews was listening to this peacenik woman's opinion of the war: "I do have some anger about it, because I think a gross violation of the national trust has happened." A picture of her husband flashed on the screen, and he looked an awful lot like Bannerman, in the 81st Brigade, who sometimes got mail from home addressed to "Sgt. Sweet Bear."

Lorin e-mailed Stacy a short while later: "Too many people saw it and let's just say that I've been trying to explain it. I am so glad that I was not in the chow hall when it came on. I love that you do these things, but at times I do not like having my picture all over the news, mostly because of the fact of where I am at and what I am doing right now. I heard it was good, and that you looked good."

He tells Stacy his comeback to comrades who criticize her: "I am over here fighting so that the Iraqi people can have the right for freedom of expression, the same right that you have. Shuts them up every time. . . . I know that you are nutty in love with me, but please, try to use some restraint with the picture."

Meanwhile, on the other flank of the relationship, Stacy was taking occasional hits from hard-core doctrinaire partisans of the peace movement. She received an anonymous note at a conference: "The concept of a peace activist being married to a military husband doesn't work for me, too much of a dichotomy. National Guard = Military = War = Death."

"Clearly, the universe is having a very good time with this relationship," Stacy says. "This is about learning to live within paradox. . . . That takes a whole level of courage and commitment. On a day-by-day basis it's about what matters and holding on to what matters.

"What matters is that Lorin is the love of my life. . . . What matters is that I remain true to myself. What matters is I'm big enough to let him do the same."

The names of dead soldiers are being read aloud over a field of empty black boots on a section of the Mall one recent Saturday. A sad gong sounds and a procession of hundreds of protesters marches toward the Capitol. Stacy falls in line behind a father pulling a flag-draped coffin in honor of his fallen son.

In town for a series of antiwar activities, she breaks from the march early for a debate with former Defense Policy Board chairman Richard Perle being filmed for a PBS documentary. He was one of the intellectual advocates of toppling Saddam Hussein, and he and Stacy square off against a backdrop of the thousands of boots -- a pair for each soldier killed.

The next day, Mother's Day, Stacy rallies outside the White House with the women's peace group Code Pink. She wears her husband's desert camouflage cap. On the back, above the label that says "Bannerman," she has pinned his Combat Infantryman Badge.

A typical weekend for an activist. Meanwhile, the owner of the cap and badge is back home in Kent, Wash. He is relaxing with Crimson and Kobe, their chows, after a string of busy weekends working his job as a food broker or drilling with his National Guard unit. They don't have children. He'll be back on Guard duty the following weekend.

Lorin doesn't accompany Stacy on most of her activist excursions, though after he returned from Iraq, he went to the same touring boot exhibit when it came to Seattle. Stacy gave an antiwar speech, and Lorin planted himself among the boots representing the 10 members of his brigade who were killed. It was the second time Stacy ever saw him cry, the first being the morning he left for Iraq.

"I don't think a lot of soldiers want to go to something like that because it is done by an antiwar peace activist group," Lorin says by telephone from their house while Stacy is protesting in Lafayette Square. "But for me more so than that, it was just going there, looking at this exhibit of all these boots and honoring the soldiers and their families and the loved ones left behind. . . . That was huge for me."

They met seven years ago in Spokane at a fundraiser to fight hunger. He was helping manage food service that night in the convention center, and he spied her looking at him, looking away, looking back, consulting with a girlfriend, until finally they exchanged business cards.

She had never married; he had been married once before. She was executive director of the Martin Luther King Jr. Family Outreach Center in Spokane, a position she would eventually leave amid controversy. (She filed a complaint with the Washington State Human Rights Commission alleging she suffered discrimination on the job because she was white; the matter was settled in 2002 for undisclosed terms.)

They discovered they had a lot of values in common -- a belief in diversity and a commitment to fairness and equal treatment based on the content of one's character.

His father is African American and his mother is white and British. His parents met when his Air Force father was stationed in England.

Stacy's parents are both teachers. So adamantly antiwar was her father that he had a lawyer draw up conscientious-objector documents for her brother when he was 7 to begin a paper trail in case he was ever called to serve.

Stacy did not fall in love with a man in uniform. Lorin had quit the Guard after about 15 years of service. Once they were engaged, he decided to reenlist so he could reach 20 years and qualify for retirement benefits. Stacy was surprised. But this was before Sept. 11, 2001. She rationalized the Guard was a conventional outlet for a man like Lorin to peacefully serve his country.

After he got the call to go to Iraq, and the months of preparation began, she did not always make his life easy. Sometimes, she said exactly the wrong thing.

It would happen in moments when life within the paradox seemed unbearable, forces both political and personal wrenching their relationship. The horror of her husband waging what she considered an immoral war and maybe having to kill people -- that was the political. The personal? She didn't want to lose him. If he weren't killed or maimed, would he come home the same? Would they as a couple be the same?

In one of their long pre-deployment conversations, he said, "There may come a time when I've got someone at gunpoint, and I'll have to make a decision. . . . I can't be thinking of the enemy as human."

"If that day comes," she replied, "and you're standing there, looking into that person's face, I want you to imagine that it's me."

As soon as she said it, she regretted it. The pacifist found herself wondering, she later wrote, if she had planted the seed of doubt that would lead to a moment of hesitation, resulting in her husband's death. Is a pacifist supposed to have such regrets?

"For me it was, 'You don't need to be saying things like that,' " he says. "It's not what I need to be thinking about. I don't need to have that moment of doubt."

But, he adds, "there were times when she probably didn't say the right thing, but she said what was on her mind. That's something that you need to accept. This is where she's at, this is what she's going through."

For his part, Lorin admits he couldn't help detaching himself emotionally from her. "I did notice a wall was coming up," he says. "I was focused on what I was getting ready to do, getting ready to be asked to do. Put my life on the line. And I had responsibilities for other people's lives."

The thing that shocked her most was when he confessed that a part of him was looking forward to the war. At last, the real thing.

"This is what I've trained for, this is now actually going to happen," he says. "There was a little bit of that in there, excitement, if you want to put it that way. Here I get to go do something I've been training for for the last 16 or 17 years."

Stacy recalls her reaction: "Please tell me I'm not hearing this. . . . I can't believe he's talking about going to war like it's some great opportunity he doesn't want to miss."

One thing she could understand: By the fall of 2003 when Lorin was called up, it was becoming apparent Iraq possessed no weapons of mass destruction, and Lorin was having some misgivings about the logic behind the war. But he had a duty, and he felt a deep loyalty and responsibility to his fellow soldiers. That was why he was going to war, and that was reasoning his activist wife accepted, even admired.

"One of the qualities I am so drawn to is his profound sense of loyalty," Stacy says.

While he was away, she kept the window blinds drawn. That way, she would not be able to see a government car pull up to announce another casualty. Therefore, in the superstitious logic of the home front, no car would ever appear.

She kept track of the death count for soldiers from the Pacific Northwest. She calculated that region's average share of loss based on the casualty rate and guiltily estimated Lorin's chances improved whenever someone else was killed.

She went to a few family support meetings for Guard spouses, but felt little in common with most of them. The community she found a bond with was Military Families Speak Out.

One evening after a movie she found three messages from Lorin on the answering machine. He sounded shaken.

The fourth time he called, he told her about the accident. His unit was firing practice mortar rounds. The target area had been cleared. But then two civilians, ages 13 and 20, apparently on their way to school and work, wandered into the area and were killed.

"It was just a huge eye-opener and shock," Lorin recalls now. "Some innocent people were killed, for what reason? I think about it. It was one of those things you have to put out of your mind. This happened, you have to continue."

Stacy broods over this more, but keeps it to herself. "I don't have a place for that one yet," she says, her eyes suddenly tearing. An investigation later ruled the deaths an accident, Lorin told her, according to her book. A public-affairs officer with the 81st Brigade said he was unaware of the incident and declined to comment on any aspect of the book.

One day in March 2005 -- about a year after her husband left and less than two weeks after the "Hardball" appearance -- the antiwarrior was behind the wheel of the Kia Sorento, driving to Fort Lewis to pick up the warrior, home from the war. The guard at the gate stared and stared. It took a while for Stacy to realize why.

Next to Lorin's military sticker on the windshield she had propped up a sign that said "Bring Them Home Now."

Stacy threw a welcome-home party, where she proudly read the citation for his Bronze Star. Later, as they were cleaning up, Lorin dropped the bombshell:

He had calculated that even though he had about 20 years in the Guard, he needed a little more time to fully qualify for those retirement benefits. He told Stacy he was thinking of extending his service.

Her reaction: "I suggest you get a very good divorce lawyer, because I won't do this again."

Lorin promised there was no way he'd be deployed again. She said she'd heard that before. Each felt the other was betraying the common ground they had established in their war-and-peace marriage.

Lorin recalls thinking: "I support you in what you're doing, and what you're believing, and I would like the same back."

Instead of a divorce lawyer, they consulted a marriage counselor, who told them they had lost a year of their lives together and needed to grieve it. And Lorin did extend his service.

Just the other day, Stacy was saying, "He's still the best man I know, but a little tiny bit of that sweetness is gone. Or I can't get to it anymore."

And now, Lorin allows that maybe he's a little more "abrupt," particularly when confronted with the macho facades of men who've never been to war. "I look at them and go, 'If only you knew,' " he says. " 'I've been and done something you'll never be able to do.' "

"I've never heard you speak in those terms previously," Stacy says to Lorin by speakerphone during one of her trips to Washington.

On different sides of the country, and different sides of the war, they talk about his readjustment -- the restless sleeping when he first got home, the instinctive check for his weapon when he climbed into the Sorento, the orders he issued in the house, which, Stacy noted dryly, "didn't work so well." In Iraq, he got so wired by the adrenaline rushes of living on a base nicknamed "Mortaritaville" that he began volunteering to go off base and patrol. But that craving has now faded.

"I did not realize you were volunteering for it because you got the buzz!" Stacy says. "You see why I don't want you going back?"

"I volunteered for it for several different reasons. The buzz was just one of the reasons why."

Lorin now refers to the war as "my year-long personal growth retreat." He learned time is precious because the rocket with your name on it might fall out of the sky at any minute.

They are stronger, and Stacy has to admit that positive growth can come even from something as negative as war. "War is a great clarifier," she says.

Going to Iraq probably drew Lorin closer to Stacy's position on the war. "Just some of the things I heard and saw changed my viewpoint," he says. "Soldiers are dying for what reason again?"

But he also says: "On a personal level, yes I'm glad I went over there and had that experience as a soldier. Yes, I get to wear the Combat Infantryman Badge. . . . That's something special for us."

For the warrior, the badge is an insignia that he saw action and risked his life for his country. The antiwarrior feels just as proud -- and patriotic -- when she borrows his cap and wears his badge on her long march for peace.

When the War Came Home, a book talk with Stacy Bannerman of Military Families Speak Out (recorded March 2, 2006 at the Institute for Policy Studies.)

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When the War Came Home is a personal and controversial narrative from Stacy Bannerman, the peace-activist wife of an Army National Guard reservist called to Iraq.

When the War Came Home chronicles a journey that began when Bannerman’s husband Lorin, a 43-year-old Sergeant First Class, was called to active duty as an Infantry Mortar Platoon Sergeant in October 2003. Bannerman describes the countdown to her husband’s deployment, recalling the emotional tumult of this period and during Lorin’s time in Iraq.

This frank account doesn’t shy away from the sometimes uneasy partnership between Stacy and Lorin, as Stacy ultimately finds herself at odds with her husband about his role in the Guard. Struggling to find a way to honor her husband while opposing the war, and outraged by the administration’s lack of support for “weekend warriors,” Bannerman joined Military Families Speak Out.

Alongside her own story, Bannerman presents demographic data on reservists and their families, their benefit programs and how they differ from enlisted military; a critical look at the training and preparation of Guardsmen for combat duty, and the supplies allotted to the reservists; the impact of the “Heart and Minds” campaign, which prevents U.S. soldiers from returning mortar fire; the Stop Loss Order (also known as the “Back-Door Draft”), which has affected roughly 45,000 Army soldiers to date, generating several lawsuits challenging its constitutionality.

When the War Came Home presents the stark reality of the emotional impact of deployment on the friends and family members of citizen soldiers. It also depicts the inherent challenge of trying to hold to a lifelong commitment to peace and social justice, when one’s loved one is at war.

Stacy Bannerman is the Founder/President of Reconciliation Works and contributor to Foreign Policy In Focus. She has appeared in various media, including Air America, NPR’s The Connection, Deborah Norville (MSNBC), Chris Matthews’ Hardball, Jim Lehrer’s NewsHour, in the Washington Post Magazine, and NBC Nightly News.

Cindy Sheehan Caravan Stopped by Capitol Police
by Sarah Ferguson
September 21st, 2005
Originally published at villagevoice.com

Washington, D.C. - At just past noon on Wednesday, anti-war activist Cindy Sheehan and the rest of the Bring Them Home Now tour were stopped by a pair of squad cars two blocks from the U.S. Capitol by members of the Capitol police force. Officers explained that they wanted to use bomb-sniffing dogs to inspect the caravan of three RVs and several cars.

The officers said it was standard practice to inspect large vehicles in the area. RVs arent allowed on Capitol Hill, one said. Thats standard procedure. Any trucks that come on Capitol Hill are stopped and turned around. Campers arent allowed at all, the officer said, unless theyve been previously authorized.

Officers told the peace activists they couldnt park at the Capitol because they dont have the proper permits. Sheehan and company then began preparing to make the rest of the trek on foot. Awaiting them near the Capitol steps were a crowd of television cameras for a scheduled noon press conference.

Earlier this week in New York Citys Union Square park, police officers unplugged Sheehans microphone, saying she didnt have a proper permit for that either.

People with Bring Them Home Now seemed unfazed. Its always something, said Stacy Bannerman of Military Families Speak Out, whose husband spent a year fighting in the Sunni Triangle. Its just part of the deal.

The conference is being held by Sheehan and the others to announce their arrival in Washington and to kick off a weekend of resistance that is expected to include a march of 100,000 people and mass civil disobedience.

At 1:30 p.m., Sheehan and her allies plan to head to the White House, where theyll attempt to give President Bush a letter asking him to answer the question, What noble cause are our loved ones dying for?

But to her, supporting the troops -- including the tall, likable National Guardsman named Lorin to whom she is married -- does not mean yellow ribbons or an unconditional salute to her husband's commander-in-chief.

The Kent woman is featured in a TV ad hitting swing states this week that blasts Bush for the so-called "backdoor draft," which is extending the tours of thousands of Guardsmen like Lorin. The ad, sponsored by Texans for Truth, is just one of the ways Stacy is actively questioning the war her husband is being kept on to fight.

For many in the area who have joined groups like Military Families Speak Out, the act of standing up and speaking out is a new and tentative process.

Not for Stacy. In third grade, she wrote a "Bill of Rights" for her elementary school.

"I had a number of issues," she said. "Recess time, longer bathroom breaks for the girls, equal after-school sports opportunities for girls and better midmorning milk delivery so it wasn't warm by the time it got to our room."

When he married her on Dec. 23, 2000, her husband knew he was marrying someone with a point of view. She had been the first white executive director of the Martin Luther King Center in Spokane.

In turn, Stacy knew her husband had joined the Guard soon after high school and had served almost 16 years. So when he told her he'd decided to answer a (pre-war) call to "re-up" with an eye toward fighting forest fires and securing retirement "bennies," she was surprised but not worried.

Then came war. And soon after -- on a day Stacy was folding thousands of school fliers for a peace-and-poetry workshop -- Iraq.

Lorin should have been home this summer. His 20-year commitment to the Guard ended June 22. Now his tour in Iraq won't end until late March or early April -- a year and four months since the last time she saw him.

For Stacy there's no question about speaking out about the war and against the "stop loss" orders holding men beyond their contracts in Iraq.

"This is the work. This is the critical issue of our time. It's about integrity and defining the soul of America," she said.

Sure, she's been shouted at, told she is "jeopardizing the mission" and not supporting the troops.

"But silence is not support. My husband is 'the troops' and if exercising my right to speak up is truly jeopardizing the mission, if the mission is that tenuous or questionable, then we've got no business being there," she said.

Houston and Teri Barclay's son, a Marine Corps sergeant, is finally home safe, if shaken, after two tours in Iraq.

He joined under President Clinton and primarily served under President Bush. Now he is picking up his education.

The Barclays' own education in activism heated slowly as it dawned on them that the plan to attack Iraq "had been on the drawing board for some time," Houston told me.

"We began realizing that this wasn't about the war on terror. It just didn't smell right."

His wife, who had never been political, started going to peace protests at Green Lake, then to the Anderson Park Vigil in Redmond. And he started going along."

Now active with Military Families Speak Out, Houston admitted it hasn't been easy. Although he's reluctant to go into detail, the Duvall CPA said lots of his clients are Republicans and his business has been impacted.

"It is my livelihood," he said. "But on the other hand, this is our son and this is our country."

Actually, once they got their feet wet, the Barclays found that being with others who shared their concerns helped while their son was away at war.

That sense of community is pulling Janet Schuroll off her couch, as well, although she's not sure who to call or how to start.

All three of her sons have served in the military. Her son John is probably in Iraq with the National Guard by now, although she hasn't heard from him in about a week.

"He wanted to keep making a contribution after the Navy," she said. "But I think he thought that meant fighting fires and floods."

Now he's in the thick of it -- on the ground, not a ship, where she thinks he was safer. If he makes it to the end of his tour only to find out he's extended, that would really propel her to action. But even now, Janet is feeling that the time has come to "jump in."

"For us, when it got personal, that was the impetus for getting us off our duffs," he said. "We've got a lot at stake."

Susan Paynter's column appears Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. Call her at 206-448-8392 or send e-mail to susanpaynter@seattlepi.com

Kerry campaign courts military-family voters
By Warren Cornwall - Seattle Times staff reporter
Monday, October 18, 2004
Originally published by The Seattle Times

Lietta Ruger, mother-in-law and aunt to soldiers sent to Iraq, has spent months speaking out against the war.

Last night was the first time she publicly spoke out for Sen. John Kerry's presidential campaign.

Ruger and her husband drove from southwestern Washington yesterday to meet in a Kent living room with several women touring the country for the Democrat's campaign in a bid to show that military families are unhappy with President Bush's handling of the war.

"I think the only opportunity this country has is for a change in commander-in-chief," Ruger said to the roughly dozen people who gathered over coffee and chocolate-chip cookies.

The low-key event was part of a broader strategy by the Kerry campaign to court military families, traditionally a Republican stronghold. The Kerry campaign organized the meeting and brought in three women from Military Moms with a Mission, a group of roughly 15 women who are on a nationwide tour to stump for Kerry during the waning days of the campaign. They are to meet with people in Spokane today.

"I think the military vote is totally up for grabs," said Lisa Leitz, a member of Military Moms whose husband is in the Navy in Florida, training to be a naval aviator.

"To the president's great credit, our heroes in the military support him," he said. "They [the Military Moms] want to falsely portray that Sen. Kerry has some significant support in the military, and that's simply not true."

Ruger, who grew up in a military family, has been active with a national anti-war group called Military Families Speak Out. She said she opposed the invasion of Iraq from the outset, feeling it had no relationship to the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks that put the nation on a war footing. In late 2003, she turned to Internet chat rooms in search of support and a community.

There she found the military families group and began speaking out against the war, breaking what she described as a taboo among military families against criticizing the president. But she didn't decide to publicly back Kerry until a recent meeting between several Washington military families and members of the Kerry campaign, including Wade Sanders, an undersecretary of the Navy in the Clinton administration.

Regardless of who wins the presidential race, Ruger plans to continue pushing for better protection of the troops.

The restriction on criticizing the president wasn't apparent in Stacy Bannerman's living room yesterday.

The people there, nearly all of them women, spoke of relatives in the military going without proper supplies, of constant anxiety that the latest combat casualties would include a loved one, and of frustration with a war with no apparent end in sight.

Several praised 18 soldiers who reportedly refused orders to take part in a recent convoy amid concerns that they didn't have adequate security or equipment.

Bannerman is a member of Military Families Speak Out. Her husband, Army National Guard Sgt. 1st Class Lorin Bannerman, is serving at Logistical Support Area Anaconda. The massive supply base northwest of Baghdad is frequently the target of mortar shelling by insurgents, and is run by Washington state's 81st Brigade Combat Team, an Army National Guard unit.

Officials there recently said they have requested more soldiers to quell the mortar attacks, but they have been turned down, according to a report in The Baltimore Sun.

"They're operating under surreal shortages," Bannerman said. She said her husband's service in the National Guard was supposed to end in June, but he now is being required to stay until April.

Some military families oppose war
by Kevin Graman - Staff writer for The Spokane Review
Thursday, April 8, 2004
Originally published at spokesmanreview.com

The United States is either building democracy and restoring infrastructure to a nation in need of our help, or it's engaged in empire building at the expense of our troops and creating enemies in the Middle East for generations to come.

Though these views of U.S. involvement in Iraq are not mutually exclusive, it is a debate not typically heard among the families of U.S. soldiers actually serving there. And while it is more common to find military families whose support for the troops extends to Bush administration policies in Iraq, a small but increasing number of them have taken a stand against the war.

"It's not only our right, it's our duty to speak out," said Nancy Lessin, co-founder of Military Families Speak Out, an organization of military families opposed to U.S. military action in Iraq. "It is our duty to our loved ones and our country to end a war based on lies."

The Boston-based group was formed in November 2002 to oppose the invasion of Iraq. Now, with 1,500 members nationwide, it has joined with the anti-war group Veterans for Peace in a campaign called "Bring Them Home Now."

"Right now, the focus of our work is to end the military occupation, bring the troops home and end the policies that allowed this very reckless military adventure to happen," said Lessin, the mother of a Marine who has recently returned from Iraq.

She and several group members in the Pacific Northwest reject the notion that opposing the war is tantamount to not supporting the troops.

"I'm balancing my love for my husband and support for him with my lifelong commitment to nonviolence," said Stacy Bannerman, a member of the organization and former director of the Martin Luther King Center in Spokane.

Her husband, Sgt. 1st Class Lorin Bannerman, is in Kuwait with the Washington National Guard's 81st Brigade, waiting to go to Iraq.

Bannerman is worried about her husband's emotional and physical well-being. He is a nonviolent man, she said, and has had to distance himself psychologically from his military mission.

"We cannot dehumanize the enemy without dehumanizing ourselves," said Bannerman, a reconciliation consultant who now lives in Kent, Wash. "That concerns me greatly."

Sgt. Bannerman's mother, a Spokane teacher who is not a member of any anti-war group, also is worried about her son's participation in a war she opposes. A native of England, her beliefs stem from personal experience. The first five years of her life were spent under German bombing during World War II.

"But that war was justified," she said. While she supports going after al Qaeda, she believes "what the U.S. has done in Iraq has increased the likelihood of more attacks" by the terrorist group responsible for Sept. 11.

Lorin Bannerman represents the fourth generation of his family to serve in the U.S. armed forces, and his mother understood his desire to join the National Guard.

"My son may make the ultimate sacrifice for his country -- nearly 600 have already," she said. "They are doing their patriotic duty, and I have no problem with that ... if only this war were really about American freedom and safety."

"I believe it was a very personal thing for Bush and based on incomplete information."

Her point of view is not shared by Anne Covey of Spokane, whose husband, 1st Sgt. Rick Covey, has been deployed to Iraq with the 81st Brigade.

"If there are families that choose to support their troops but in the same breath, oppose the United States's involvement in Iraq, then they really aren't supporting their troops," said Covey, a family support coordinator for the Guard. "To support something or someone, you must support the entire entity or cause, not just part of it."

Though she personally does not like the fact her husband is halfway across the world, she said he knew deployment was a possibility 25 years ago when he joined the National Guard.

"This is the job all of them signed up for when they took the oath to join the Army National Guard or any other branch of the military for that matter," Covey said.

Lessin agrees that in an all-volunteer military each soldier knows he or she could go to war.

"Indeed, they all signed an oath," she said. But she believes an oath is a contract between two parties. The soldier agrees to defend the Constitution and the government's "implied vow" is that it is not going to put our loved ones' lives at risk needlessly, she said.

"They will not send them to a war based on lies," Lessin said, "and that's what happened here. The government sent them off as cannon fodder for oil markets and empire building."

A Seattle-area member of the group of families opposing the war, Theresa Barclay, whose son, Stephan, is a Marine corporal, believes the administration owes her some answers.

She believes the world is less safe since the U.S. action in Iraq, a decision she said was made by leaders who are not combat veterans.

"What they have done just incites terrorists and plays into their hands," Barclay said. "They would have been a lot better off actually fighting terrorism. I'm not against the military being able to defend this country, I just think the current administration has hijacked the military and is using them for their own evil goals.

"Now that we've taken out the (Iraqi) government, we have the responsibility to stabilize it, but we need to internationalize it," Barclay said, in terms of both security and rebuilding the country. "I hope the American people will realize that we need to rejoin the world community."

Marcie McClean has mixed feelings about military families speaking out against the war. Her husband, Sgt. 1st Class Merle McClean, has been in Iraq for nearly a year with the Washington National Guard's 1161st Transportation Company based in Ephrata.

"In a way, it makes me proud that we can go out and have an opinion and not be penalized for it," said McClean, who is a family assistance coordinator for the Guard. "But it makes me sad, because the soldiers overseas see them not supporting them. They turn on the news every day and hear about the protests."

She would like to remind the protesters that "the right to speak out was given to us by a war," and she has not lost faith in the nation's leadership.

"If President Bush tells me there are weapons of mass destruction or a terrorist link, I'm going to believe him," McClean said. "I believe he wakes up every day and prays for guidance to make the right decisions."

Though Helen Bannerman does not share McClean's faith in the administration, she said she supports the troops and, like other National Guard families, has invested heavily in equipment for her son. She has bought him mosquito netting and a walkie-talkie with global positioning so his platoon would not get lost in an Iraqi sandstorm.

She thought she was going to have to buy him body armor, but the Guard provided that item three days before his unit left Fort Lewis. Banner said she believes U.S. Sen. Patty Murray had something to do with that.

Bannerman said she encourages her students to write cards to show their support for the troops.

"We are doing what we can to make it possible for them to be there and safe," she said. "There was no question that they would not have gone. My son feels it is a way to prove his 20 years of training have paid off. But that doesn't mean you don't try to end things in an honorable way."

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