‘War’ and ‘Patriotism’ – seem to be two favorite topics of American TV channels – especially in their news channels, as if these two are integrally built in their cultural heritage. During my stay at Dave’s place in the year 2007, every evening I used to surf these channels and often find programs related to them. It is also a fact that no other nation fought as much as Americans did in recent times, in particular in last twenty years or so, and none of those wars, were fought in their own land. Nevertheless you would find American soldiers fighting through out the world for some reasons or so; be it a peace keeping mission, or a mission for eliminating weapons of mass destruction. The only major war or aggression, they faced in their territory in the last century, was from Japan during the Second World War. That too took place far away from their main land in Pearl Harbor. In return, the horror and devastation that it brought into Hiroshima and Nagasaki, was beyond anyone’s imagination. No doubt it brought a quick end to the Second World War, but it also terrified the whole world by sending a clear and loud warning of beginning of the era of nuclear warfare threatening the very existence of this planet. Then in the beginning of this century, a similar mistake, though in a different magnitude, was committed by a little known terrorist group, Al Qaeda. They blew the twin towers of New York using their indoctrinated followers in the September, 2001. This single act of terrorism was sufficient enough to invite the American wrath and war in this part of world. They showered all the modern conventional weaponries from their arsenal in the hilly terrains and caves of Afghanistan to chase the then rulers, Talibans, away from their safe havens. In 2007, America was at the height of their Iraq campaign, and was bleeding heavily in the battlefields there. So it was quite natural, that all the pro-establishment media would take proactive roles in fanning sentiments around ‘war’ and ‘patriotism’ to counter a rising popular dissent against the campaign. When Dave told me, “Next Sunday, let’s go for watching a game of war,” I was curious, but not surprised at all. The week-end before, the nation observed the Veteran’s day. I thought the show, Dave was referring at, must be a continuation of that event. But he clarified, “It’s like enacting an incident of our civil war, with all the melodrama and fan fare. It’s a part of our tradition.”
“Where will it be held?”
“In a place near my brother’s house.”
“Does it take place every year?”
“Probably.”
“Is any particular day fixed for it?”
“I am not sure. Even I do not know the place, where it is taking place. But round the year we have this fun. You will find soldiers in two camps dressed differently, are fighting with each other. It would be interesting to watch their mock fight. Let’s go. We have to go to my brother’s place first. He has also invited you to the dinner.”
“Oh! Great! My pleasure!”
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We started a bit early in the afternoon. Dave’s brother lived at a place which was around 40 miles from LA. Dave took a bottle of wine for his brother’s family. I bought two packs of Indian sweets from an Indian store on our way. We had also the company of a young Saudi student – Adil. He was doing Masters in Computer Science in the USC. We were introduced before. He also rented an apartment in the same housing complex, where I lived. During our introduction Adil did embarrass me by asking my year of graduate study in the University then. When I replied that I had finished it exactly two decades ago, and was visiting the University on a different purpose, he himself became embarrassed, and observed, “You should have a few more grey hairs by now to account for your professorship!” Dave was quite fond of him, though he did not approve his love for Western culture and neglect (according to Dave) of his own culture and religion.
Dave loved to talk while driving, and there was no dearth of topics on which he could not speak. However, his favorite was anything connected to religion, and the next would have been on his utopian project of bringing peace and harmony among all religions. I found Adil was also equally eloquent on different matters. He seemed to be engrossed with contemporary US presidential election, and started discussing on the election of possible Democratic candidate. A few days ago the first debate of Democratic candidates took place. Though Hillary Clinton was supposed to have an initial advantage to win this race, there were a few other names also drawing attention of the media. In fact immediately after the debate, Barak Obama, the young Illinois senator, was declared as a dark horse in that race. Adil thought Hillary would finally be the candidate. He asked me, “Who do you think, should win this election? I am for the Democrats.”
I told, “How does it matter? Will there be any difference?”
Dave replied, “Oh! Sure! There is a lot of difference between these two parties. It matters who in power is. I am out and out Republican. I give huge donation to their election fund.”
I was aware of his affiliation before. There were a good number of certificates and receipts of donations displayed on his door. Even I found a picture of George and Laura Bush there. I told him, “Dave! You may feel the differences in your domestic affairs. But, an outsider like me does not find any difference in policies of these two parties.”
Adil told, “But if a Democrat candidate wins the presidency, she will stop war in Iraq and withdraw American forces from there.”
I disagreed, “This decision is not merely a decision of an individual. Finally it is the bureaucrat and the corporate lobby, which matter. You can see Hillary was evasive on this aspect. Though Obama was a bit explicit, but he also played a dubious role in voting against Iran. None of this candidate promised any immediate withdrawal of force after their win. I do not think there is any soft ending of this war.”
Dave changed the topic. He said, “Last weekend my son came to see me. He drafted a will for me. He wants my signature. What he wants do you know?” He looked at me expectantly, and then replied on his own, “He wants my property. The whole bunch of it!”
I asked, “What would you do?”
“I’ll sign.”
I was surprised at his meek submission to his son’s demand. I knew he loved him very much, but he was also not very happy with his life style, which he confided to me previously. As Dave was always strong in his opinion and quite outspoken on matters of his liking and disliking, I thought he would not relent to this demand. So I asked, “What about your daughter? Will you not keep something for her?”
“No. She is not fit for keeping the property.” He was candid enough to declare his intention, and continued, “She has a disease. A very infectious disease!” He winked at both of us, and explained, “She wants to see everyone happy in this world. I hope you understand. Is there anything worse than this craziness?”
I tried to argue, “But, Dave! Is it proper to keep you daughter left out?”
“Why not? It is my property. I can do whatever I want. Don’t you think that is where the justice lies? Besides, my son will take care of her sister. So where is the question of injustice?”
I found him a bit irritated, and kept mum on this subject. After a few minutes, he said again, “But, I went with him to a party last week, and realized that he is insane.”
Adil reacted, “Nonsense!”
Dave said, “It is true. He could be very rough. Suddenly he could become very angry. At that moment, he may even kill a man. When he returned to Santa Barbara, I wrote him a long mail. I told him that he should realize that he has a crack in his brain. He should take care of this. He replied to my mail in one word – ‘agreed!’ A real CrackJack!”
After a few minutes, Dave once again asked Adil, “What do you think? Will he kill me for the property?”
Adil replied, “I do not think so.”
Dave agreed, “Me too.”
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There was quite a bit of gathering in Dave’s brother’s house. He was a lawyer, as well as an accomplished lyricist and singer. A few weeks ago I met with Dave’s brother and his niece on the occasion of a concert, where his brother played guitar. That day, he invited also many of his friends and his secretary, a lady in mid-thirties, with their families. Dave’s niece welcomed us. When I handed over the sweets, she wanted to know how to eat them. I told her, “Just take them raw. You require neither heating nor cooking.” They were in fact laddus and barfis (typical North-Indian sweets).
The house had a small backyard lawn. There we played a game called ‘Croquet’. I never played it before. However the rules appeared to me simple, though I was not a good learner of the game. I had to pick them while playing only. We played in teams of three. Dave and Adil were my partners. Each team had a colored ball and a player of a team in turn would have to hit the team’s ball by a stick fitted with a short bar. The stick was called ‘mallet’. The ball had to go through wickets; nine of them were placed on the ground. There was a typical tour path that had to be traversed through these wickets. Each wicket had to be crossed twice in a complete tour. A ball could advance for a wicket only if it goes through the wicket placed before it in the charted path. There was a starting position and a wicket marked to begin with. Finally, a person succeeding in finishing the track, became a monster or poison. He or she could hit any one’s ball and put the opponent out of the contest. I played quite poorly among all of them. I was not sure how the game ended. It appeared to me, near the end Dave’s brother became a poison and started hitting opponents’ balls to conquer them one by one. However, there was not much of time left for a conclusive finish. We had to rush to the battlefield as Dave’s niece sounded the warning bell for being late at the show.
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When we reached the venue, we could see that a good number of people were walking across a field to reach the final point of assembly. We also joined the procession. After traversing the field, we walked over a small wooden platform to cross a very narrow ditch. Immediately after it, was the arena of the war-game, which was almost hidden from our eyes by trees, and bushes around its fences. No sooner than we made our entry into that soft muddy corner of the ground, it revealed its secret antique world. I felt as if we went back to an eighteenth century hamlet, where bearded men wearing top hats with knee long black suits and tight trousers pushed into the leathers of high boots, were roaming on the pebbled road. Some of them were accompanied by ladies with long striped skirts and long sleeved jackets. They too were wearing colorful and feathered hats. By the side of the roads there were wooden houses, displaying items of yonder days. There were shops with different house hold items for sell. They had kitchen stuff, knives, dresses, mirrors, flutes, toys, hammocks, candles, hats, etc. There were drugstores displaying different colored bottles on a table. It had a old fashioned wall clock and a calendar displaying the dates of 1864. On the road, a few horse drawn empty carts were lying. In our left side, a makeshift high-wall was erected. We could hear the sound of beating steps of marching soldiers and the shouts of their commanders coming from the zone behind the wall. A soft sweet tune of flute complimenting their marching beats was being played all around us. Occasionally we could hear blowing of whistles from here and there. Against these good number of people in their ‘go as you like it’ nineteenth century dresses roaming, gossiping, laughing, or selling different items in shops, we in our usual attire looked like foreigners there. But very soon, we could also feel our attachment to this new world. Like us there were many other visitors of this century. However, everyone seemed to be enjoying becoming a part of this field drama on depicting an episode of the American civil war.
Our group came to an area where several tents were fixed by the two sides of the pebbled road. In those tents there were soldiers with their blue uniforms. By looking at their uniforms Dave commented, “This is the Union camp.” The soldiers in their tents were busy in various activities. Some were cleaning their rifles, some reading newspapers; even some of them were having a chat with friends. A few of them had special badges indicating their status of officers. At places, a small group of soldiers were standing in rows, and were getting addressed by their commanding officers. In front of some tents there were also small gatherings of visitors, who were satisfying their queries on tactics and ammunition used during civil war. We also listened to one such conversation. The person was explaining the mechanism of loading a rifle with seven gun shells in a magazine, and removing it after the firing. Dave as usual joined the conversation, and carried on satisfying his queries on different aspects of war tactics. There was an aged man standing aloof from these gatherings. He had many badges in his uniform. Dave went straight to him and asked, “What is your role in this battle?”
“I am the General,” he replied.
“It means, you are General Grant!”
“Yes.”
Dave turned towards me and whispered, “Just imagine, the General Grant himself is standing before us.” Then he asked again, “When will the fighting start?”
“About half an hour later.”
“Where is your opponents’ camp? I always side with the opposition.”
“The other side of the ground.”
“Who will win this battle?”
“Today it is the turn of the confederate army. This is the battle of Cold Harbor. In this battle on a single day, 7000 soldiers of the Union camp were killed.’
Dave remarked, “Great to know that! Then we need to place our loyalty to the victors. Let’s leave these losers, and take shelter in the Confederate camp.”
In the camp of Confederate army too, the soldiers were busy in drills and in other preparations for the war. They were wearing grey uniforms. We did not stay longer there. We had to be near the battle ground for the final show. So we went for visiting various other exhibits in that ground. We visited different shops selling replicas of old items during the days of civil wars. Dave wanted to get a hat. He gifted me one too, and said, “Now, let’s have some vintage touch. Put it on.” I had to wear it. That was the first and the last opportunity I had for wearing it. After my return, when my wife discovered it, she immediately took it into her safe custody, and would give you a cold look, if you mention about its existence. She was afraid that I would be crazy enough to ask for it again.
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There were fences around the battle field. All the spectators were lined up around it. Though there were chairs to sit, many of them remained unoccupied. Most of the spectators preferred to watch the show standing on the ground. The field was quite large. We were standing near the trenches of the unionists, where soldiers took positions with their rifles. The ground was made uneven. At places there were heaps of muds. However, mostly it was an empty corn field. One could see the dry foliages, traces of reaped corns, and their roots scattered around. The other end of the ground was extended towards the left, and met a wall of the compound. Near the wall a barricade was constructed with sacks, wooden planks, and tree-trunks. The confederate soldiers were behind it waiting for the battle.
Before the show began, a brief description of the episode was narrated over a PA system. The particular battle took place in Cold Harbor in 1864 on the 3rd June. Cold Harbor was a place at a distance of about ten miles from Richmond, the capital of the Confederate States. At this place both the generals from each side assembled with their soldiers. General Grant was encouraged to attack General Lee’s camp to cause severe damage in his battalion. He wanted a decisive victory at that stage. On the other hand the confederate General Lee was more than determined to save his bastion. Initially the unionists made a good progress and did make push towards the confederate territory. However that proved fatal for them. The soldiers got exposed to the open fire of the confederate army, who were waiting behind the barricade, and a lot many (7000 as mentioned before) union soldiers died on the spot. From the confederate side, the number of deaths was about 1500. Later, General Grant in his memoir regretted the fact that he gave a marching order on that ominous day. Incidentally the battle of Cold Harbor was the last one, where Confederate army had a major victory. Very soon they were defeated in subsequent battles loosing a great number of their ranks and files. In the absence of new soldiers joining for their causes, the army became thinner, and lost its capacity of mounting any serious attack on the unionists. Finally in April 1865, General Lee surrendered to General Grant thus bringing the end of the civil war.
Finally the phony war started. The excitement of the evening was settled with the sounds of firing from guns, and cannons from both sides. A group of confederate soldiers took positions around the middle of the field and crawled on the ground with guns pointing towards the union camp. The union soldiers too crawled near the mid-area, and then the exchange of fires between them started. As told, initially the unionists marched forward, while the confederate army moved back behind the barricade. During the exchange of gun-shots a few soldiers from both the camps were found lying on the ground. Presumably, they were dead or seriously injured. Then began the bombardment of cannon shells, and firing of gun shots from the barricade on the advancing soldiers of the Union camp. Most of them fell on the ground. A few could run away towards their trenches. The whole field was filled with smokes and smell of gun powder. The grayish shadow of the autumnal dusk was spreading its wings over the battleground. Through the smoky fog, we could see the outline of a tall figure limping across the field. The dejected general was returning to his camp stooping his head mournfully, sometimes stopping near a fellow soldier lying on the ground, sometimes watching carefully at the enemy camp. All of us knew that it was merely a staged drama, and were taking consolation from the fact that none of our soldiers died that day. Yet the depiction of the bloody war befell a supreme silence across the arena. We could feel the trauma, helplessness and sufferings of soldiers in every battle-field. Yet so many are bleeding and dying in today’s world!
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On our return, there was a long queue of cars waiting to take the exit from the venue. I was in Dave’s car, and his brother was also accompanying us. Adil was in the car driven by Dave’s niece. Dave became impatient while waiting behind the pool of cars for a few minutes. “Let’s do something else,” by saying he drove aside on a non-metal road. None of those cars before us vouched for it. Yet he wanted to check how far he could go driving along it. His brother got nervous and pleaded him to enter the queue. He told him, “What are you doing? No one is following this lane. It should not lead us to the exit. Please turn back, or at least get into the queue from the side. We would be in trouble! You do not know where this road ends. We might have to come back again and wait behind all of them.”
But Dave kept on driving. He laughed at his brother, “Let’s see. Who knows where it ends?”
It took around five minutes to reach the end of it, meeting at a junction of the entry point of the highway. All other cars were patiently and slowly making their turn to take the exit. Dave joined them without any difficulty. Throughout this journey his brother never stopped pleading him for turning back, and was scolding him for his impatience and for being unscrupulous. Moment we reached the main road, he called his daughter, “Take the non-metal road running beside. Otherwise you have to wait there for hours.”
10/03/2012
