On The Front Lines Of Resistance

Bryan Centa never expected to be taken by today's "volunteer army" in chains.

He enlisted as a medic in the Army Reserves in March 1990 to help pay his way through college and to gain some concrete experience toward his goal of becoming a nurse. As a medic in the peacetime reserves, he didn't think much about going to war or even carrying a gun. All that changed August 2 with the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait.

Bryan began to have questions about the morality of his involvement with the military. He was realizing, according to his wife, Stacie, that he couldn't fight in a war and needed time to sort out his beliefs. So the couple went in to talk with his recruiter, to ask for a delay in his going on active duty. The recruiter told them that it was impossible to delay activation -- which they discovered later was untrue -- but promised them that Bryan's active duty stint would be served in Germany, and that he would not be sent to Saudi Arabia.

When it became clear that his unit would be sent to the Gulf, Centa filed an application for discharge from the military, on the grounds that he was in conscience opposed to participation in war. In mid-December, when Centa's unit began weapons training for medics, he declined to participate.

Centa's commanding officer in Germany refused to receive his application for a "conscientious objection," or CO, discharge, and tried to dissuade him from making his claim. He first told Centa that medics couldn't file for CO. When Bryan found out that was untrue, the officer told him that if he filed, he would "go to jail for 14 years." In the meantime, his superior told him, if he persisted in seeking a CO release, "We'll put you on the front line without a weapon and see how long you last."

On January 2, Bryan called his wife and said, "I won't walk onto the plane" carrying his unit to the Gulf. That afternoon at 5:45 p.m., Centa was paraded in hand-cuffs and shackles through a formation of soldiers -- "They wanted to make an example of him," Stacie said -- and then picked up by three guards and put on a bus to the airfield. He was again forcibly lifted onto the plane, and kept in shackles all the way to Saudi Arabia, where he remained. In February, he was moved to a different unit, closer to the front lines.

Centa, who has two children at home -- Ashley, 2 1/2, and Kelly, 4 months -- has continued to refuse to carry a weapon, despite being in the midst of a war zone. The officer investigating his CO claim told him that his beliefs were "insincere," and that he "would not be going home."

Amnesty International is currently investigating whether Bryan should be considered a "prisoner of conscience" -- one of seven American CO cases the human rights organization is examining. AI has already adopted Army Sgt. George Morse, a United Methodist CO from Michigan who was sentenced to five months in prison for refusing deployment to the Gulf.

Stacie Centa said her husband's situation frightens her. "I'm worried about someone who does feel they should be there doing something to him. He was told that if he disobeys a direct order, he'll be shot." So far, Bryan has not been ordered to pick up a gun -- something he says would violate his conscience.

Stacie, now living in Ohio, is angry with what she feels is unfair treatment of her husband, and feels he was shipped off to Saudi Arabia in chains "so no one else would do what Bryan is doing. It angers me that if Bryan would have been in the States, there would have been people here to help him. With the publicity here, they wouldn't have taken him in shackles. I feel sorry for guys in other countries who have no help."

In this country, help is available. A growing number of churches have declared themselves "sanctuaries" for people in the military or out who are considering resisting the call to war for reasons of faith or conscience.

"Churches are supposed to be teaching people not to act contrary to their conscience," explained Rev. Gustav Shultz, pastor of the University Lutheran Church in Berkeley, California. "Now young people are turning to churches and asking, 'Are you going to support us in this or not?'"

For congregations such as University Lutheran, the answer has been a resounding yes. Shultz' church has a rich history of support for conscience and for people fleeing oppression. In 1971, the church declared itself a sanctuary for those refusing the Vietnam War draft. In 1982, the congregation applied the same principle in offering sanctuary to Central American refugees.

Last November, University Lutheran voted to become a sanctuary church for those refusing service in the Middle East war. The church, like many others around the country that have followed suit, provides a community of support -- in the form of counseling, advice, access to legal assistance, or just a safe place to wrestle with the moral questions involved -- for people questioning their involvement in the military.

Fifty prominent black church and political leaders, meeting in February in Harlem's Abyssinian Baptist Church, encouraged 65,000 black churches to offer sanctuary to war resisters and to offer counseling to those who seek to be recognized as COs. New York City's Riverside Church is one of the more well-known congregations that has proclaimed itself sanctuary for CO claimants.

While only a relatively small number of churches have publicly declared themselves a part of this new sanctuary movement, many churches take such a role for granted. "Of course we offer sanctuary and support" for people grappling with their conscience about participation in war, said Rev. John Steinbruck of Washington, DC's Luther Place Memorial Church. "We don't need to 'declare' ourselves sanctuary; that's what we do as church."

Sometimes, what is needed is simply information. "CO status has been described as the most closely held military secret," Shultz said. "They hope no one finds out about it." Robert Calabro, a Marine reservist who applied for a CO discharge in October, said, "The military doesn't publish a newsletter on how to get out. If I had known CO existed, I would have applied two years ago."

The resistance in the ranks has been much more widespread than the government admits. University Lutheran's Gustav Shultz, when told that the Marine Corps reports that only 10 CO applications have reached headquarters since Desert Shield began, remarked, "That's a lie! Last month the State Department announced that only eight people in the whole country had applied for CO status [since the war began]. Those in the room watching looked at each other and had to laugh. We knew of twice that number each day, just in our little area. There have been thousands applying" and many more who were preparing to submit a CO claim or had attempted to when their unit was called up, and then were charged with being away without official leave (AWOL) or desertion.

Draft counselors estimate the number of COs to be in the thousands. Charles Maresca, a counselor at the Washington, DC-based National Interreligious Service Board for Conscientious Objectors (NISBCO), said, "We get hundreds of calls each week, if not thousands" from people in the military seeking information or support, or from people concerned about the reinstatement of the draft. "For a while we were getting 25 calls an hour, from 7 a.m. to midnight."

The resistance goes far beyond the CO numbers. Many of the military personnel and family members interviewed for this article indicated broad dissatisfaction with the war. Stacie Centa told Sojourners, "A large percentage of the soldiers in Saudi Arabia don't want to be there. Last Tuesday, Bryan told me on the phone that a guy in his unit shot himself in the shoulder so he could go home. That night, I saw the story on CNN. They said the wound was inflicted accidentally."

Many have simply left. The Green Party in Germany reported that an estimated 500 U.S. soldiers have gone AWOL in Germany, where an extensive underground provides them with support. Two hundred soldiers are reportedly AWOL from Ft. Benning, Georgia; 60 to 80 Marines are said to be incarcerated at Camp Pendleton for their refusal to go to the Gulf. Camp Lejeune "has been turned into a concentration camp" for military resisters, according to an attorney with the National Lawyers Guild.

"These COs are the first prisoners of war," said Andre Stoner, a counselor with the Military Counseling Network in Germany. "The only thing they're guilty of is following the law of God not to kill."

The most commonly asked question of COs is: Why didn't you consider this before you enlisted? Marian Bock has heard some accuse COs of cowardice, saying that they're trying to get out simply because they are afraid. Bock, a member of the University Baptist Church in Seattle (which in January declared itself a sanctuary for conscientious objectors), said, "It's irrelevant whether someone is afraid of being killed; you'd be insane not to be. What's more relevant is that they're repulsed by the possibility of becoming killers. There is no bad reason to refuse to kill another person. Many COs are willing to take alternative duty that's just as risky."

For some, the imminent reality of being sent to war forces them to grapple with their conscience about the morality of killing -- often the first time they have seriously wrestled with the question. "Think back to when you were 17 years old," Shultz said. "How well formed was your conscience, especially concerning the complexities of modern warfare?"

Shultz feels that most CO claimants in the "volunteer military" are victims of false advertising. Draft counselors say that virtually everyone they talk to has been lied to by their recruiter. Many of those who signed up with the military or the reserves during peacetime were lured by the promise of learning a trade or earning money for college -- not for reasons of nationalism or a warrior spirit.

He tells the story of a college student who went into a recruitment office recently and was asked, "Do you want to see the [recruitment] videos?" "Sure," she replied. "What do you have?" "Well," the recruiter said, "we have one about job training, one about financing your education." "What about war? Don't you have any about war?" War wasn't part of the pitch.

"They lure you with a lot of b.s. propaganda," Robert Calabro said. "They never tell you what's really involved -- which is blowing people's heads off."

One person especially troubled by the dishonesty of recruiters is Liann Noble, a National Guard reservist whose father is an instructor of recruiters at a National Guard base in Arkansas. Liann, who is waiting the Guard's response to her CO application, described the tension with her father.

"As a father, he doesn't want me to go" to Saudi Arabia, Noble said. "But as a military person, he has a hard time understanding what I'm doing, someone saying they won't fight for any reason."

During the Civil War, draftees were able to pay someone to take their place in the military. The Conscription Act of 1917 was this country's first attempt to recognize conscientious objection. The World War I act provided exemption from military service only for those who were members of a recognized religious sect or denomination that was opposed to war.

If a CO application was rejected, there were harsh repercussions: 500 men faced court martial for "insincere" applications; 17 of them received death sentences and 142 received life prison terms.

Outrage over the World War I abuses led to the creation of alternative service work camps during the Second World War. Twelve thousand COs did alternative civilian work, and many others served in non-combatant roles as medics and clerks. During Korea and Vietnam, there was a wide variety of responses to the military draft. While many received CO exemption to the draft, others chose not to register at all. Some ended up in prison, and others moved to Canada or Sweden, countries that respected their conscientious resistance and welcomed them. This time around, Canadian officials have said they will deny entry to those seeking to avoid taking part in the Gulf war -- conscientious or not.

Derrick Jones is a 26 year-old medic with the Army's Infantry Medical Platoon that until January 2 was stationed in Germany. Jones applied in December for a CO release and told his unit's chaplain that if engaged in war, he could not kill another member of the body of Christ. The chaplain responded, "Don't worry about that. Iraqis aren't Christians anyway."

On Christmas day, Jones' unit was ordered to report to base for deployment to the Gulf. He called his commanding officer and told him that he felt going to the war zone would be a violation of his beliefs. The officer said he likely would be prosecuted for refusing orders, but promised Jones he would not be sent to the Gulf. "No problem," the officer said. "You won't fly."

Hours later, Jones reported to base. He was immediately handcuffed and taken into custody, put on a bus to Rhein-Main Air Base, and then forcibly placed on a plane leaving for Saudi Arabia. His lawyer described him as "in a state of shock."

During the Vietnam War, applicants for CO status routinely were allowed to stay in the United States while their claims were processed. This time around, CO claimants are being shipped to Saudi Arabia while their cases are pending -- some of them, like Centa and Jones, in chains.

Liann Noble told Sojourners that if her unit were activated, she would refuse activation and turn herself in to the military. When asked if she felt she would get a fair hearing on her CO claim while in the middle of a combat zone, she laughed and said, "I'm sure they wouldn't lose that paperwork! Seriously, I'm afraid my case would get lost in the shuffle, and they'd try to force me to participate. It would be hard to get a ride home once you're over there."

Noble said she was "astounded" at the news of manacled soldiers sent to the Gulf against their will while their CO cases were pending. "I'm horrified at the fact that, because a person refused to kill or commit violence against another, the military would force them to go to war," Liann Noble said. "How can they claim to be a volunteer army?"

Many feel the policy is an intentional attempt by the military to separate objectors from their supporters, thereby discouraging potential COs and reducing the number of those receiving a discharge. "I don't know of any CO claims that have been processed in the Middle East," said Walter Winfield, a counselor with the Draft and Military Project in Silver Spring, Maryland. "I'm doubtful any will be processed over there."

Military regulations hold that a conscientious objector applicant should not be made to do anything against their conscience while their case is pending. For many war resisters, going to a war zone is against their conscience.

"It's a problem of logic," explained Charles Maresca of NISBCO. "You've told the military that you can't participate in war. Then they say you have to participate in war to get a discharge." The Catch-22 continues: Since transfer to a war zone conflicts with deeply held beliefs, people refuse to go. The military charges them with refusing a lawful order, and from then on the CO claim is ignored.

"I'm disappointed that religious leaders have not been more forthright in opposition to the policy," Maresca said. "I would have hoped for more outrage. These people are following what their denominations have taught. They're not getting backed up by the people responsible for their spiritual well-being."

According to Maj. Nancy Laluntas, public affairs officer with the U.S. Marine Corps, the policy is simply a matter of doing what is "most practical" and not a matter of conscience at all. "I don't understand how the physical location is relevant," Laluntas said in an interview with Sojourners. "It seems to me the CO applicants just don't want to be inconvenienced. They can obtain civilian counsel in places other than where they are currently located."

"In Saudi Arabia?" she was asked.

"Well, I guess it might be a little difficult there. But CO applicants don't need legal counsel. It's just an administrative procedure."

The consequences of the "administrative procedure" can be grave, indeed, for the resister whose claim is denied. Many COs on active duty, like Bryan Centa, continue to refuse to carry a weapon if their claim is stalled or disproved, even in the face of fire. Others are liable to be charged with disobeying an order, desertion, or missing a troop movement if they elect not to join their unit when it is deployed to the war.

Sentences for resisters thus far have mostly been months in prison and a less-than-honorable discharge from the military. Punishment could be as much as five years in prison, or worse.

Still, most CO applicants with cases pending say they would go to jail rather than go to war. Army reservist Apollo Leong, a Richmond, Virginia physician whose father helped design the Aegis missile defense system, said if his CO application is denied when his unit is called to active duty in July, "I'm going to refuse. I would rather go to jail than acquiesce."

Some feel churches in this country should be more actively supporting those who object in conscience to war. Tom Witt, longtime peace activist in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, said, "If the church would take the just war tradition seriously, we would start with the assumption that people follow Jesus and refuse to participate in war. In some cases, people feel it's necessary to go to war. The church should automatically support COs. The burden of proof should be on those who are willing to go to war."

Marian Bock is impressed by the courage of those willing to resist the call to war. "These are very brave young people," Bock said. "Society defines bravery as a willingness to kill strangers in warfare. We need to change that. These people are on the front lines of the war to end war."

Some, like 20-year-old Bryan Centa, have already paid a heavy price for their convictions. "The military has taken so much from me. Even if I come home right now, I'll never be the same."

Jim Rice is editor of Sojourners.