This is my story, at least partly. I was one of 13,000 people who were arrested during the first week of May, 1971, in Washington DC. We called ourselves the May Day Tribe and our mission was to turn traffic into gridlock to force President Nixon to end the draft and the Vietnam War. At the time, while we sat behind bars, it all seemed so hopeless, but in the end the antiwar protests changed the hearts of the American public and eventually forced the government to exit Southeast Asia and chalk it up to a foreign policy failure. The Vietnam War divided America down the middle after the government began drafting middleclass boys. This story is my story and the stories of a few of my friends. Some of them avoided the draft by fleeing to Canada while others came out as gay to fail their induction physical. Others capitulated and headed to boot camp with fear in their hearts. We were the generation who weren't celebrated like our fathers who came home as heroes after World War II. We were called freaks, flower children, dropouts, traitors, cowards, hippies, and effete snobs (VP Agnew's words). Those who wore the uniform were mocked as baby killers upon their return. Many came home without their limbs or their sanity. Thousands committed suicide because of the horrors of war. Over 58,000 never returned. But to us, we were just young people, baby boomers born after WW II, who yearned for peace, justice, and hope. This is our story...
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