Our local coordinators were now John and Susan Johnson, and the local support group was Pax Christi. For the next two nights we were to stay at Mary Immaculate Hospital. We had the entire wing on the third floor -- ten single rooms for fifteen people. These unique accommodations had been arranged for us by a staff doctor, a member of PSR.

Having arrived at eleven, after getting an orientation lecture, our detailed schedule, and lunch, we found ourselves at l:00 o'clock in a press conference in the parking lot. The hospital's public relations person said that the hospital was for peace but had no need to take a position on nuclear weapons now.

An hour or two later, a guard came up to Jane and me at the coffee bar to point out that Carole, Mercury, and Sandy, called "strange people" by many people calling him, were sleeping on the lawn. "Hell, this is a hospital!" he said, adding they were all a little jumpy since their pharmacy was robbed two nights ago.

The staff was not too friendly toward us. When we walked past the sisters, they neither smiled nor spoke. We saw no patients. They were warming up considerably by the time we left.

At 4:30 we started for the Unitarian Church for supper and a program. It was a five-mile walk and exposed us with our banners to the commuters who gave us lots of waves and peace signs, military included. Walking again felt good.

It was a large church and many came on this first day of "Ground Zero Week", a week that turned out to make a big impact on public opinion. Returning to the hospital afterward, we had to go in the emergency room entrance, where the still nervous guard counted us as we came in. Short of beds for all, some like me slept on the floor; I was wakened all through the night by "Dr. Cardio-Pulmonary, call the switchboard."

   April 20, Rest day in Newport News
For this busy fourteen-hour day, with almost no walking, we started at the Catholic School of Newport News at 8:30. The principal had been under pressure from his Board to revoke his permission for us to speak. The President and another Board member met us in the parking lot, and not to welcome us. For three hours they were in and out of the classes in which we were talking, sitting in the back and taking notes.

At first we saw only a few students, most of them jeering from classroom windows. Dividing into four groups, we talked with almost every student before leaving, and it turned out that most were eager for information, and supportive, although a few ripped up our literature, threw it down, stomped on it. But most realized they were a target area, the fallout shelter signs hardly reassuring. Many expressed a fear of nuclear war along with a fear of the Russians.

The President of the Board attended our last class. He reviewed his notes, then raised his hand, and I got ready for a lively debate. He asked, "Why aren't you marching against abortion?" and then "Why aren't you marching against secular humanism?" Then we let the students have a turn at asking. Before we left, the principal took John aside and asked whether Pax Christi would come to the school to do a follow-up program. John told us later that Pax Christi had been trying for a long time to get to speak at a large Catholic school. After more one-on-ones during cafeteria lunch, we left from the school parking lot for a five-block walk to the "Victory Arch" at the shipyard. As we left, students were hanging out the windows, arms waving madly as they shouted goodbyes. It was a contrast to our arrival.

After a one-hour prayer vigil at the Arch, we went to the coliseum for another but were six hours early. But obedient to our schedule, we stood in a rain in a nearly-empty parking lot for the hour. Sandy went off to talk to carneys putting up tents and rides; she told us of one encounter with three men looking at a Penthouse magazine. She told them of the walk. They had three questions. "Do you f___?" "Do you take drugs?" "Do you get drunk at night?" Answering with three noes, she told them life on the walk was plenty intense without these. In half an hour she had fifteen petition signatures and returned with a couple of carneys who watched the end of our vigil.

Later, over coffee, Kajo (Ishiyama) confided how tired he was. I see now that I was of little support, having responded feebly, "Yeah, we're all tired. We should have had more rest in Norfolk." And, over supper, Kajo and all of us heard the next day's schedule. We were slated at Christopher Newport College in the morning and at Williamsburg after walking eighteen miles in the afternoon. There had to be a change, so Mary, Molly, Kajo, and I would do the program at the college and ride to catch up to the others walking.

That evening our program at the Lutheran Church competed with two others at the same time. Guests at one wore semi-formal attire, at the other they came dressed as cowboys and cowgirls. We were first on the scene, and the other two groups made their way through a group of weary Buddhist monks and peace walkers on the front lawn and steps. Dr. Watson, passing by, might have stumped even Holmes with a gloating phone query about the sight.

We had only about ten at our program, which we kept short leaving most of the time for discussion. One couple had immigrated from Hungary in the fifties; they were alarmed that our sincere efforts for peace would be used by Soviet propagandists. As we were about to leave in our van, John called me back. Two people wished to make donations. (We never solicited donations.) An elderly man gave us $20, struggling to keep tears from his eyes; he was contributing in the name of his grandchildren.

That night I heard "Cardio-pulmonary" paged again, regularly. But it was different because it was my turn to sleep in the bed.

   April 2l, Newport News to Williamsburg
Molly, Mary, Kajo, John, and I remained behind as the walkers left the hospital. The walk though small was impressive with the drum beats, the chant, and the banners. I was proud, watching the walk disappear down the highway.

After the college program and lunch we drove toward Williamsburg, expecting to catch them in about ten miles. But they had gone 15 -- beyond what the coordinator had figured and only three miles from the city limits. So there was no parade permit nor notification of the city officials in advance, and we were stopped by police and officials.

John talked with the police, the police talked with their supervisors, and I talked with Sandy, who reported on their morning. Once, she said, two excited men stopped their car and ran over. They were fundamentalists just back from Japan, where they had witnessed a ceremony in which thousands of Buddhists had been converted to Christianity; now they saw their chance to add a few monks. Sandy had lost her temper after ten minutes, saying, "Leave us in peace, won't you?" and was later reprimanded by Morishita for her discourtesy.

The county police gave us a go-ahead. Inside Williamsburg we were stopped by the city police who quickly waved us on also. Then we were stopped once more. This time is was our local coordinator, Penny. She and Morishita went off somewhere; Morishita later told me that she feared our being on private property there would not be understood by people in this wealthy neighborhood, where in fact she lived herself. In answer to Morishita's query, she admitted she had not tried to explain the walk there. How then could she say that they would not understand? Morishita thought that many times people underrestimated the support for the peace movement and gave up without even trying.

So the walk continued about two miles to the center of Colonial Williamsburg. We were stopped again when a man came running from the city hall, putting his coat on as he ran. Two policemen behind him were more leisurely. He got up to us and shouted, "Stop! Stop! I'm the city manager. The chief of the city. Do you understand? The chief! The head of the city!"

We were violating the noise ordinance, he said. This chief had to shout to be heard above the muffler of the car stopped beside us at a traffic light. Morishita pointed and asked if it was violating the noise ordinance, since the muffler was louder than we were. The chief seemed taken aback.

By now, John had parked and joined ue. He was wearing a coat and tie for our college program. The manager, visibly relieved, took John aside, and the result was we could walk ahead but only the monks could beat drums and chant. Now the manager walked alongside, putting his fingers to his lips when he thought the chant too loud. He left us when we turned along the William and Mary campus, and we all resumed beating the drum and chanting as loudly as we could.

Arriving early at Walsingham Academy despite a route lengthened by agreement of John and the city manager, we had another surprise. Tomorrow would be a rest day. Were we so disorganized now that even such simple communications were failing us? And we had a free hour right now.

In this time, Morishita for the only time talked with me about his plans for the future. He would continue with peace walks in Europe for the next two years. Then he hoped to go to China, a country with nuclear weapons but one which has never had a peace walk. He would also like to help return Buddhism to China. He thinks he will spend the rest of his life in China, walking and praying for peace, "or perhaps, they will put me in jail."

We were part of William & Mary's "Ground Zero" program, and there were 200 people for us and the UN film, "Nuclear Countdown". The only negative part was that Sam spoke a lot during the question period, depriving others in the audience their turn. Sam was also giving out grossly inaccurate information, tending to make us look bad. John and Morishita came to me to ask me to talk with Sam. I did, and he agreed to answer questions in his special area, not where we had long-prepared information.

Back at the Academy I slept outside with Mercury, Carole, Sandy, Mary, and Fredericka to see large meteor showere which were due. I went to sleep immediately. It was too cloudy anyway. go to page 37