Far From Iraq, A Demonstration Of a War Zone

"Way off the hook," said a man on his way to work.

This is the way it is on patrol, the vets said. You can't take chances, which means you can't treat people like human beings.

Motorists halted for the strangely alert, cautious, crouching column. Men and women in the workaday uniforms of trench coats and business suits got tangled in the advance. While explanatory fliers were handed out, not everybody got the message.

"I don't know what they're doing, but they're in everybody's way," said Janet Ruck, a career counselor in Washington. Upon hearing an explanation, she said, "So they were intentionally getting in people's way. I don't think that people have lost touch or forgotten [about the war]. I don't think this is the way to get people to connect."

"At first I was scared," said Maria Rave, a restaurant owner from Maine who saw the platoon reenact visions of a sniper attack, near the Smithsonian Castle.

"We weren't sure what they were doing, but it's kind of cool," said Glenn Gebhart, an IT consultant from Rochester, N.Y. "We're all in favor of the message," said his friend Chris Santillo, a martial arts teacher from Alexandria.

All day, an alien context was being imposed on familiar streets and tourist zones. The new frames of reference made for little epiphanies. For example, through the eyes of a soldier, potentially hostile cities all look alike. The soldier reduces every feature to threats or places of shelter.

"Watch the windows," called Reppenhagen.

The windows? That's Goodies Deli.

"We got a long danger area!"

No, those are the steps and promenades to Upper Senate Park, adjacent to the Capitol. The soldiers took cover behind the marble.

"I feel like Forrest Gump, desert style," said Mark Lachance of Philadelphia, formerly a scout in the 1st Infantry, now zigzagging up to the Capitol.

U.S. Capitol Police officers held the patrol on the grass briefly, mulling its lack of a permit, then let the vets go. A mounted Park Police officer approached the patrol. "Do you guys have any weapons?" she asked.

They are all members of Iraq Veterans Against the War, a group that claims about 400 members nationwide and calls for immediate U.S. withdrawal. "We are the troops," said Kelly Dougherty, co-founder of the group. "Supporting the troops means not sending us into a war based on lies."

After lunch by the Washington Monument -- five of these antiwar vets are vegetarians -- it was back on patrol. The day ended at Arlington Cemetery. They saluted the fallen, remembered dead friends.

Then they removed their uniform shirts, a symbolic leave-taking from the war and from the roles they had taken up once more. Many had found it troubling, acting like soldiers again.

"I definitely feel it," Reppenhagen said. "We don't want to act like soldiers. We felt we had to for today to help express the honesty of the war. But we want to revert back to being veterans and civilians."