Featured DOC MAKERS

We are presently the "Featured Doc Makers"
on The Documentary Channel web page.

To read our interview
visit: www.documentarychannel.com

Now Airing on THE DOCUMENTARY CHANNEL

My War, My Story premiered Monday, July 21
on The Documentary Channel & on NYC TV - TV14.
It will be shown repeatedly.
To find future air times go to:

http://www.documentarychannel.com/schedule

or

http://mywarmystory.com/docchannelschedu.html

For more info visit www.mywarmystory.com

Thanks to everyone who participated for your support.

Mostly, our thanks go out to the vets and their families -
this was made for you.

Andy & Carol

Part VIII: "Thoughts on post-production"

Many people are wary of being manipulated by filmmakers with an ax to grind. On the other hand, what’s the point, if you have nothing to say? We’ve tried very hard to eliminate all of the stuff that tends to put off viewers who are politically near the middle. The vets are remarkably calm, considering the subject matter. Their stories are straightforward accounts of their experiences, without any grandstanding.
During editing, we relived all of the conversations. Melissa, who waited at home while her husband, Patrick, was in Iraq, dreading a knock on the door. Jose, from NY, was in the military and became a conscientious objector, told me, “Not only are we bombing poor people, but we’re bombing brown people. I’m a person of color living in the United States, and things aren’t so rosy here.” And Fernando, from the Bronx, who read a very clever poem (that he and his girlfriend wrote) in a rap rhythm. He believes that the war is about the US establishing a permanent base in the Middle East.
I was recently asked what I learned from making this documentary, and I think I can answer that question simply. I learned that the war (even looked at only from the American side) is extraordinarily costly in human terms. There is a vast amount of damage done to young people, exclusive of bombs, bullets, and shrapnel (which is bad enough). The risk of psychological damage, some of it long lasting, is quite substantial.

Part VII: "Chicago"

I stop in Chicago on the way home. I talk outside with Eric. Like many of the vets, he still gets very juiced on adrenaline when talking about his experiences in Iraq. Eric describes yet another checkpoint killing involving civilians, the fourth separate incident I have heard about. Three generations of a family were in a farm truck. Something happens, and in the confusion the soldiers open fire, killing everyone but a small child. The child was patched up, and was later placed in a small cage, the height of which Erik approximates with his hand, about three or four feet. He is still outraged. “We kill his whole family, and we put him in prison.” Erik then helped remove the boy’s family members in body bags. He describes a crowd of “at least 500” family members, moaning, waiting to identify the bodies.
The ride home is uneventful and I’m tired and pretty homesick. I spend my last few dollars on a beer between Buffalo and Springfield.
[Above Iraq photos courtesy of Independent Journalist, Dahr Jamail, www.dahrjamailiraq.com]

Part VI: "Meeting vets in Wyoming"

I’m apprehensive as we drive along Rt. 25 to Wyoming. We received some angry emails, after a story ran in the Casper newspaper about what we were doing. People seemed to think we had hunted down some weak-minded vets and brainwashed them into opposing the war. The idea that large numbers of vets could have those thoughts for themselves had not occurred to these people. One email made a vague reference to firearms.
The people in Casper are very pleasant, though. Herds of antelope run across the roads on the outskirts of town. A heavy snow has just fallen. We meet Brian, an athletic guy, and we find out right away that there’s been a mistake of some kind. Brian is totally in favor of the war. For a split second I wonder what is going to happen, but Brian is cool. I decide to include him—why the hell not? He was there. He shows me home movies of pick-up football games in Iraq. He strongly dislikes protests made up of folks who didn’t fight in Iraq. I ask him, “What about Iraq vets? What do you think if they speak out against the war?” Brian shrugs. They were there, he tells me, so that’s up to them.

Part V: "Going West"

Carol kisses me goodbye at the train station in Meriden, Connecticut, and I ride Amtrak through Philadelphia, Washington, and Chicago. Two days later I arrive in Denver, where it is brutally cold, well below zero, but I instantly learn the difference low humidity makes. If the wind doesn’t blow it’s quite bearable, much easier to take than a 30-degree day in the humid New England air.
My friend and producer Dennis greets me in his pick-up. He’s arranged to meet some vets in his home state of Wyoming. I’ve tried to avoid using the word ‘interview’ here, but I don’t have a proper word for what I do. ‘Interview’ sounds kind of condescending to me, as I see my job not as journalism, but simply creating a record of what certain Iraq vets with certain beliefs think about themselves, the country, and the war. Besides, wherever possible, I don’t use the Q&A format. If I can, I just get them talking, without steering anything.
Later, we meet Ben. He’s amazingly direct and sincere. He didn’t believe in the war, and was very conflicted in Iraq. “Everyday, I felt like crap. I felt like such a hypocrite. But you do what you have to, to survive.”
A big part of the problem, he says, is that American voters live in a “comfort bubble,” and they’ll simply vote in anyone who will keep them there.

Part IV: "Our experiences in Philly"

We drive to Philadelphia. Iraq vets from around the country are here for a convention. There is a heavy curtain of fog, and the city looks romantic and a little dangerous.
Dave, from Illinois, smokes a cigarette outside. He’s friendly, but restless and agitated. He comes from a long and proud family tradition of military service. But once in Iraq, he was very turned off by the way the civilians were treated—their cities were totally destroyed and the people were shell-shocked and without basic necessities. Back at home, he heard about protestors, and confronted them angrily. “Who the hell are you to say this? We went through this complete bullshit for you.” He decided, however, that the protestors were on the side of the soldiers. The more he thought about the war, the angrier he became.
Abbie, from Wisconsin, is still very shaken from her experiences in Iraq. “I can’t hold down a relationship, I dropped classes at school… my short term memory is gone.”
Where can you see and hear experiences like these? On the evening news? Not likely. The vet who wants to talk on local or national TV about how this war is a good idea might get the chance to do it, but not these people. This documentary is their chance to say what they want to.