A Litany Of Protest

On Wednesday, February 22, 1984, a man in Emporia, Kansas, saw the White Train traveling north through town on the Santa Fe/Wichita rail line. It was just past noon in Washington state when a reporter called the Ground Zero Center to relay the message. By 10 p.m. on Friday, February 24, the White Train was locked behind the fences of the Trident submarine base at Bangor, Washington. But it did not make the trip unnoticed. What followed that message from Emporia is a story of vigilance and waiting, of prayer and protest.

The "classified" bills of lading for this journey of the White Train probably would have read "St. Francis to Bangor." St. Francis is the train station nearest the Pantex plant, the final assembly point for all U.S. nuclear weapons, outside Amarillo, Texas. Bangor is the site of the naval submarine base, home port for the Trident fleet. This was the fourth trip to Bangor since December, 1982, when the first such nuclear weapons shipment had been sighted (see Sojourners, February, 1984).

Unlike that December 1982 train, which was not noticed until it was a few hours from its destination, this train was recognized a few hours after its late-night departure. Known as the "White Train," "Death Train," "Nuclear Train," or the "Bombs Train," it is gaining national prominence. No matter what it is called, it is a train whose cargo of nuclear warheads is more deadly than 1,000 Hiroshimas.

From Emporia, Kansas, to Bangor, Washington, throughout Nebraska, Wyoming, Idaho, and Oregon, this all-white, heavily guarded train was sighted and tracked by a network of peace-loving people. Shortly after the first call, a second sighting was recorded. Looking out the window of the Acapulco restaurant just south of Topeka, a customer saw a train pass by. He had seen the White Train previously, so he knew what was passing before his eyes.

He notified his local peace group, which notified Ground Zero. Phone trees throughout Kansas and Nebraska were immediately activated, and people closest to the train headed to the nearest stretch of tracks. Their rapid response enabled a handful of residents in Frankfort, Kansas, to witness the train's passage before it headed on to Nebraska. The chain of vigils had begun.

Soon more eyewitness accounts gave the details. This train consisted of 17 white cars—14 weapons cargo cars and three turreted security cars—plus two engines and a caboose. It was traveling fast: throughout Nebraska, people driving alongside the train clocked it at speeds between 50 and 60 mph.

By 7 a.m. as the train sped toward Hastings, Nebraska, a group of 18 vigilers with signs, candles, and Bibles were waiting in the snow by the tracks, singing hymns beneath a streetlight. An hour later when the train barreled through Kearney, Nebraska, the number of vigilers had doubled to 35. At North Platte, Ogallala, Sidney, and Kimball, people kept watch.

On the second day, in the predawn darkness of Cheyenne, Wyoming, 100 people stood waiting for the train. Unknown to them, the train had stopped for an hour outside town as the crew changed shifts. At 2 a.m. the vigilers moved to a viaduct overlooking the railroad yard. From this windy vantage point, they watched for another hour singing "This Land is Your Land," "I've Been Workin' on the Railroad," and "America the Beautiful."

It was 3:30 a.m. when the train finally passed and the vigilers tossed their flowers onto the top of it. There were tears and prayers as they linked arms while the train rolled on to Laramie, where 50 more vigilers waited. In Rawlins, Rock Springs, and Granger the train was met again and again with protest and prayer. It was noon of the second day when the train entered Idaho.

That same day, February 23,1984, the New York Times released a story headlined, "Bishops Protest Train Carrying Atom Weapons." The story told of a statement signed by 12 Roman Catholic bishops in the West, bishops from states through which the White Train passed. They urged direct action to impede the deployment of nuclear weapons by encouraging their parishioners to join in prayer vigils along the route of the train.

The train traveled through Pocatello, Idaho, heading west to Shoshone, where 40 people waited with a candlelight vigil. At Gooding a family stood together on the soil of their own farm holding up signs to the passing train. It was nearly 11 p.m. when the train went through Mountain Home, Idaho, a military town in which 40 people stood to publicly speak their no to the weapons-carrying train.

In Orchard, Idaho, this train first encountered people on the tracks. In sub-freezing temperatures a vigil of 70 people had gathered, a number driving in from nearby Boise. When four elderly women walked onto the tracks several minutes before the train's arrival, the state police and sheriff's deputies moved in quickly to remove them. One deputy confided to one of the women as he led her away that if it weren't for their positions, many of the officers would be in the vigil line. No charges were brought against the women.

The demonstration organizers had been so open about their plans in Orchard that the location and plans of the protesters were announced on the six o'clock news. Eight women in a bridge club heard the announcement, put down their cards, and went to the vigil. Two had never been to a public protest before.

Although a police roadblock prevented the people at Orchard from driving on to Nampa to meet the train again, about 80 people waited in Nampa until the train reached there at midnight. Living out an action they had planned for over eight months, eight people crossed a police barricade in an attempt to reach the tracks. Seven were arrested and charged with trespassing. As they were taken to a police van the others sang "We Shall Overcome."

The train barreled through town at 50 mph. Cathy Posey, a homemaker and one of those arrested, explained the reasons for her action:

I have two children, seven and eight years old. I am convinced that if they are to have a chance to grow up ... our government will have to take the initiative in leading the world toward peace. Building nuclear weapons doesn't make the world more secure. It leads the world to war.

As the train crossed into Oregon at about 1 a.m., 15 members of the Interfaith Peace Fellowship held a prayer vigil in the Ontario depot. In Baker a dozen people waited in two feet of snow for two hours until the train passed at 2:20 a.m. Two hours later in La Grande, 28 people ranging in age from 3 to 50 met the train with large signs and banners reading "Give Peace a Chance—Stop the Arms Race" and "We Believe in Peace." In the Amtrak station in The Dalles, 50 people held hands in prayer while the train passed by at 10:22 a.m. Half an hour later 40 people vigiled in Hood River as the train passed headed toward Portland.

Then the unexpected happened. The train stopped. It was two-and-a-half hours before it moved again. In northeast Portland 175 people stood together on the tracks. Some 80 police and security officers worked to remove the protesters, only to find that once removed, they would return again and again to the tracks. In the end, 33 people were arrested and charged with trespassing. Despite rain and a chilling wind, their spirits remained high. At 3:30 p.m. the train made its way out of Portland and into Washington.

At Kelso, Castle Rock, Chehalis, and Centralia the train was again met as the people of Washington added their signs and prayers to the litany of protest that had accompanied the train. It was then 6:30 p.m. In Elma a group of 80 people lined both sides of the tracks. Carrying candles, they joined together in a liturgy of resistance and hope. As eight people attempted to make their way onto the tracks they were dragged off by officers. They were not charged.

Just outside the fence of the Trident submarine base in Bangor, several hundred people waited for hours into the night. They lined the final stretch of tracks holding candles and lanterns, listening to readings, joining in songs and prayer. This vigil had actually begun the day before in Seattle, where members of the Seattle Agape Community maintained a vigil outside the corporate offices of Burlington-Northern Railroad. Rebecca Johnson, an Agape member, explained, "We're asking people to just go see it. It will change their lives to see the White Train. It did mine."

About an hour before the train appeared, a group of nine persons walked onto the tracks. Holding a large wooden cross, they stood facing the vigil line beside the tracks. Together, all the vigilers sang songs of hope and prayed for a faith deep enough to end the violence that sends the trains. Then the nine knelt, facing the oncoming train. The vigil line stood in silence. The nine were removed from the tracks as the train, with its spotlights dimmed, passed into the darkened base.

It was 10 p.m. on the third day. The crowd encircled the tracks, proclaiming together an affirmation of faith and breaking bread. There were songs, tears, and a deep sense of connectedness along the tracks. Another train had passed through our lives, but it had not passed unnoticed. One person standing with a candle was enough to pierce the darkness, one voice enough to break the silence. And many such gestures had been offered in the preceding three days. These trains, with their deadly cargo of nuclear warheads, make visible the reality of an arms race propelling us toward destruction. They travel through our midst bringing the bombs close to us right through our towns, right into our lives. The arms race has come home. And it is hard to determine which is the greater danger, the moral or the physical one.

These White Trains are not a matter for indifference or apathy. All across the United States people of faith have roused themselves. They are bearing witness against this passage of destruction. One place where prayer and resistance meet is by the tracks of the White Train.

Karol Schulkin was a member of the Los Angeles-based Immaculate Heart Community and a full-time volunteer at the Ground Zero Center for Nonviolent Action when this article appeared.