Waging Peace to the face of War

woke up this morning to angry voices-

I never heard Sir yes Sir, though the feeling was exactly just that tone.

secure in the delirium of sleep and the warm arms of a lover, for a time I was too calm to find any of this disruption a discomfort. I did not rise instantly to restore the serenity - it took a lot of yelling over the next two hours to disturb that sort of peace.

as the noise from our bed receded, the war chant across the block continued. The space I inhabit is very close to the Campus Naval Academy, so it was not too a far stretch to imagine the source and justify my lack of immediate response to the conflict. However, as this racket carried on for the next few hours, faculties of reason began to question why on earth this should be happening.

I admit, it was a good time before it clicked on me that this was a war chant.
I was Hearing that the noise was too close for comfort.
I was Hearing that it could not possibly be from the parade grounds on campus,
I was Hearing that these boys were conducting a war, a war on my block.
I wanted to push back.

I scouted around, not knowing the exact location of the sound. When I found them, They were getting their first haircuts. Their leader would say something, an acronym or other command, with the idea that his charge holler back a specific response- as loud as they could without messing up their haircut.

Outside, two more recruits stood where they could yell at full pitch.

Memorization at thirty decibels.

In his dress browns, Their leader paced in and out, looking just barely out of the academy himself. When I walked in, the boys outside hadn't yelled in a few seconds. Let me say that although I stand a good measure taller than almost everyone, and by this nature seem to say even the kindest words with some amount of force.... In a warm tone, I calmly asked if they were the source to all this racket.

Knowing that this was a position he would have to defend, his response was to explain his orders. After the Marine stumbled through a sentence worth of words, I intervened, with a slicing gesture of my hand, and explained that I would not be having a war zone on my block. his attempts at defending the orders, repeated in a variety of flavors, were all met with the same reply -

I would not be having this war on this block.

I made it clear he could say whatever he pleased, but that the noise would be stopping. Some small debate as to the noise ordinance, or his possession of official permission was entertained, and I made it clear that he could stop or I could call the cops. in my words, I said that it was not necessary to yell in order to conduct a haircut, that they were disturbing my peace, and that they could take their war elsewhere, it was not welcome here.

Thankfully, after just one more call and response, The noise of the conflict was ended. The the commands and obedience training continued, however it was brought to a volume that was easily contained by the barbershop walls.

I feel compelled to note that in writing this down, It seems easy to embellish my own dominance of the moment and forgo the details of how that action was also soft in its strength.

This I inform you of, as a reader, on this Day, I feel honorable in my actions both against the War Machine, and in favor of the people and the souls who inhabit the roles within that machine. It is possible to do both at the same moment.

I encourage you to believe that this is a viable way to wage your own peace.

The story does not end here.