Although still cold, the weather was lots warmer than the day before, which our ten "guest walkers" from Augusta and Aiken must have appreciated.

We all cheered as we crossed the Savannah River into our fifth state, South Carolina, though Georgia had been good to us. Arriving early in Aiken, we had lunch in a park and decided on a two-hour lunch break there. But the police, assigned to "watch over you" and uninterested in watching us sun ourselves and tying up two patrol cars, insisted we walk on. So we did, accepting what can happen inside a city's limits and walking for three hours though one hour would have brought us to our destination.

We had planned to hold a vigil at 4 o'clock by the road as the traffic went by with SRP commuters heading home from making plutonium and tritium. We would hold up the large photo displays of the Hiroshima and Nagasaki atomic bomb victims. We wanted people to see the possible end results of the fruits of their labor. But now we had to walk for three hours. The police told us to follow them. They would take us around for three hours and show us the sights. We had an escort in front and another behind.

First they took us down the rural road beside the recreation department where we had eaten. This led into a rural area. After a mile or so, a sign said "county landfill." The police were showing us the sights.

They continued; we walked constantly for over two hours. The streets were lined with huge trees, their limbs stretching across the road, leaves just coming green. We walked through the downtown area of Aiken twice, and the escort car turned for a third pass, but we stopped walking -- had they wanted to see how long we'd go before dropping? -- and arranged to be driven back to the recreation department for the vigil.

Traffic was heavy and cars slowed almost to a stop to see what we were doing. Our photos horrified them, judging from their faces which revealed unconcealed surprise, their chins dropping. After half an hour we ended the vigil.

We were to stay with five families and were surprised to learn that tomorrow would be another rest day, after it had been rumored that our next rest day would be in Charlotte, N.C. Bill and I were to stay with Rob and Shelia Toole, students at U.S.C. Aiken. Just a few days ago Shelia had agreed to do most of the organizing for us here. It was evidently the first time she had done anything like this, and the first few minutes were a little awkward. Shelia asked Bill and me, "Just how did you manage to get mixed up in this? uh... I mean, how did you join?' The ice was broken. Soon we were talking away.

   March 9, Rest day in Aiken
I slept until mid-morning, then spent most of the day writing letters. Rob and Shelia's house was just a few blocks from the downtown area. I walked downtown to pick up a newspaper.

Yesterday I had done nearly an hour interview with a local reporter. Now I found the resulting article on page five: two sentences deep in a column labelled, "Around Aiken." It said: l. The World Peace March arrived yesterday. 2. Some marchers would speak at U.S.C.-Aiken. Rob told me that paper would report nothing against nuclear technology. The Three Mile Island accident didn't even make page one --: newspaper-SRP ties were that strong. Another explanation in our case was that the editor was out of town. Reporters might have been afraid to print an anti-nuke story without his prior approval.

As we left Aiken the next day the entire town was talking about us, but almost no one knew what was going on. So much for the free press.

   March 10. Aiken to Monetta
The walk today was enjoyable after yesterday's rest. Four of the past five days had been non-walking, and my ankle was almost completely healed. Further, the weather was just about perfect, with temperature in the 70's.

We walked up U.S. l through farm lands and forested areas, now and then past a cluster of houses or an old service station. The people from these service stations were sometimes friendly, sometimes downright hostile. I remember one older farmer who wanted us to stop and talk some more. One of us had given him some of our literature and had talked with him briefly. But we couldn't stop more than a couple of minutes with anyone, then running to catch up.

Ahead of schedule at a roadside park, we stopped a while, and Jane was questioning Ishiyama about marriage rules for monks and nuns. His father was a monk, his mother a nun; they had been married before entering Nipponzan Myohoji. He said the marriage commitment might conflict with one's religious duties. Off to the right, Nagase and Sakamaki were playing "baseball", Sakamaki pitching pine cones, Nagase hitting them out of the park, his smooth swing reminding me he had been a professional ballplayer.

That evening at Rob and Shelia's (we would be driven back to our stopping point tomorrow morning), Bill and I watched the news and viewed our first report on the rapidly growing nuclear freeze movement. What we had seen across the South was happening nation-wide. The Kennedy-Hatfield freeze bill had been introduced in the Senate, co-sponsored by a quarter of the members of Congress. The day before, in town meetings across New Hampshire, people had voted overwhelmingly for the freeze. In Vermont voters had done the same earlier that week, making the most encouraging national news we had heard in a very long time. But we were quickly brought back to earth. The next report told of the CIA program, approved by Reagan, to destabilize Nicaragua.

As a birthday present, Nagase gave me a picture of the peace pagoda which the monks and nuns had just constructed in Milton Keynes, England -- the first peace pagoda in Western Europe. The Labor Party had asked Nipponzan Myohoji to build it in one of their model cities, established after World War II when the Labor Party was in power in the UK.

At the time of our walk, the local government at the Trident submarine base near Seattle was refusing a building permit for a Buddhist peace pagoda. These pagodas are to radiate…..peace.

During the evening, Ishiyama doctored Mary's blistered feet. She decided her feet were too sore to walk on for a few days, so she was to leave us in the morning to visit a great-aunt in Florida and expected to rejoin near Charlotte.

   March 11, Monetta to Leesville
Around l o'clock we found ourselves waiting at an abandoned house for Shelia to arrive from Aiken with a forgotten prayer banner -- and lunch. We were visited by a young Episcopal priest, Bill Melnick, noticing us from his nearby church. He had opposed the Vietnam era peace demonstrations; now he saw the war as wrong. Then four Black youths rode up on bicycles and stayed to talk. And now Shelia with sandwiches, even ice cream. There was plenty for everyone.

During lunch, Rev. Melnick decided he agreed with us and wanted to show support publicly. So he called the local newspaper to tell them about this story, then walked with us on into Leesville, about three miles. He left after telling us he planned a sermon on disarmament for that Sunday. I should have told about the reporter who had responded to Rev. Melnick's call. She had been nervous, said excitedly this was the biggest story this town had ever seen, and couldn't get the camera to focus properly. That interview took most of the three miles.

It was still early afternoon when we arrived at our hosts', the Mitchells. Mr. Mitchell and his father were filling in a trench in their backyard, to cover a new water pipe. I grabbed a shovel and, all working really hard, we finished before supper.

The Mitchells' neighbor came over shortly before supper, suspicious of us. She told the Mitchells to watch that we did not steal anything during the night, as we all listened. go to page 23