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• 1 media/Stockade conscientious objector.jpeg media/Stockade conscientious objector.jpeg 2023-01-19T15:48:36+00:00 Mike Wittels 22 A Pacifist Takes A Stand image_header 2026-01-26T00:03:13+00:00 Mike Wittels is not a Vietnam veteran. Not technically. But during the Vietnam War, he was willing to risk his freedom for a cause greater than himself. In 1963, Wittels enlisted in the US Army because "the draft was breathing down [his] neck." The United States had not officially declared war against Vietnam yet. At the time, Wittels had no romanticized ideas about war, nor had he been indoctrinated into believing that the United States had a sacred role to contain the spread of Communism around the world. His grandparents were Jewish immigrants, and his father had been a war correspondent in the China, Burma, India theater of the Second World War.
  
  During basic training at Fort Knox, he excelled. He became squad leader. One day, the recruits were issued M-1 rifles. "Men, this is your M-1," the sergeant exclaimed. "It can blow a hole the size of a grapefruit in your enemy." Before then, Wittels had no moral objection to guns. But in his gut, he felt disgusted. "Why the hell would I want to blow a hole the size of a grapefruit in someone I didn't know?" he thought. This moment planted the seeds of becoming a conscientious objector. At the time, he buried his moral objections because as a member of the Army Reserves, he didn't believe he would be sent to war. Best to keep his head down and do his time. 
   

  Becoming a Conscientious Objector

  Early in the second week of basic, we were issued M1 rifles. I had nothing against guns. I shot a few 22's at friends houses. My dad was against kids having guns, not for moral reasons because as a young police reporter he had seen too many kids killed or injured playing with guns. I wasn't allowed to have toy guns. But being a kid, I got hold of them anyway, cap guns and so. It wasn't something one way or the other. But we were issued them once and then we were supposed to have a class on the orientation. . . . I came in the back and there are other companies in there, so maybe 200 people. Some at the back, everybody has their hair down to an eighth of an inch. Everybody had olive drab uniforms on. Then all I could see was the backs of people. The big sergeant on the stage was holding up this M1 and said, "Man, this is your M1. It can blow a hole the size of a grapefruit in your enemy" and I'm looking at all these guys who I didn't know, certainly not from the back and their breathing in and out. I thought, why the hell would I want to blow a hole the size of a grapefruit in someone I didn't know.
  
  When I got back to the barracks that evening, I thought about I need to talk to somebody. Obviously, I'm mixed up, and I thought the commander: No. The chaplain: No. But I called my squad together and I said, 'if there's a war, I'm going to leave the country. How about you guys?' One guy said, 'I don't have to worry. I'm going to be in the band.' Everybody else except another guy said me too. The other guys said, Miami holding a rifle no, I'd like to kill somebody. But I didn't know what to do about it. I thought I'll just go through with the training and there's no war right now, reserves weren't getting sent to Vietnam. I'll deal with it later.

  
  
  Then, after the Gulf of Tonkin incidents in August 1964 - the justifying narrative that President Johnson used to invade South Vietnam under false pretenses – everything changed.1 He was at a summer training when he learned about Vietnam, and he decided that he would refuse to wear the uniform. Afterwards, Wittels connected with a group of Quakers in Philadelphia, the Friends Peace Committee.2 He was given a copy of the Handbook for Conscientious Objectors.3 He read it and then every book on peace and non-violent resistance he could find in the Philadelphia public library. In 1965, he applied for a discharge as a conscientious objector. The Army ordered him to report for further training. 
  
  A year later, in August 1966, Wittels returned to Fort Knox, wearing civilian clothes. He refused to wear a military uniform. The company commander called in the Army chaplain who "explained how wrong I was and how Jesus believed in violence." Still, Wittels stood by his convictions. He was arrested and incarcerated in Fort Knox stockade. Wittels very much understood the potential consequences for his refusal. "I knew I might die," he said. "I had become opposed to all war."

  Going into the Stockade

  Koenig was about my age and height 5'9 maybe a little shorter. Had reddish hair in a pompadour. Looked like Hollywood's version of an SS officer and had the accent to match and he said, "Oh, so you're a conscientious objectors. You should be put to death. If one of my sons grows up severe conscientious objector I will kill him."Not much support there. The other one adding, "We'll break you. I don't know how we'll do it but trust me."
  
  . . . I had always said I won't wear a uniform anymore and this was symbolic. They said we're going to put you in the box and took me down to a row of solid steel doors: three of them solid except for an opening about 10 by 10 about half face high. He opened the doors and there was a pale kid and said, 'Tell him what it's like in here.' This was repeated for a total of three times and each kid said 'it's bad man. It's bad.' He said, "Well, will you still not put it on?" I said sure. I was always polite. Something my parents beat into me. We're going to shoot you. Thank you, sir. I would say. Anyway. Then they put me in the jeep took me to the hospital and I thought well medics lobby. They weighed me, checked my heartbeat and looked in my ears and said you're okay. I was thrown into the box.

  
  They stripped him bare and put him in the solitary confinement. With only a thin blanket, Wittels slept on a steel slab. The commander had decided to make an example out of him and "break him." Most of the guards were simply curious. He explained his story and his convictions. Over and over again. He talked to the chaplain, a rabbi, a Black preacher. All tried to convince him that military duty was compatible with religious faith. Still, Wittels stood his ground and refused to wear the uniform. 

  In the Hole

   It was solitary of course. An army blanket was thrown in. Around evening, there was a loudspeaker that gave the notice breakdown which meant everybody can go to sleep. I was not far from what apparently was the command center. Once in a while I could hear snatches of a phone call. One time I heard, 'no ma'am, we don't shoot them at midnight. No, ma'am.' With no other audio input I wondered what that meant.
  
  I managed to get to sleep on the steel slab. Late midnight, one o’clock, sometime around there, the door was open and there were two young guards. Oh, before that another guard took me for a shower. It turned out the shower had no controls and was cold, and it was a couple of seconds. When that guard first opened the door and said, 'you're going to the showers,' I thought, oh no, because some of my relatives had been killed by the Nazis.
  
  . . . [Then] I was taken to stand in front of what I think was the command desk. I could see the top of a microphone on there, but my back was to it. There were about a dozen young guards. . . . They wanted to know why. 'Why won't you wear the uniform?' I got questions like, 'are you in the Navy? Is that why?' I got to explain my beliefs. I'm not a fire and brimstone guy . . . . They listened. I told them I was a squad leader. I told them my history and I said, then this happened. None of the questions were hostile. They were all curious. Then the two guards took me back and they each said, 'I didn't want to be in the army either.' One said, 'but I got a girl pregnant and I had to.' The other said, 'my dad was at Pearl Harbor, so I had to I think.' They locked me up again. Of course, they didn't have any power.

  Interactions with Others in the Stockade

  We had though, radio, TV, newspapers. Later on in a weird twist, I was able to see a news paper once in a while. But for the most part, nothing. Stockade – which is the Army term, brig is Navy, and I think Marines – is nothing at all like civilian prison. There's no recreation to speak of. There's no recruits, there's no games, there's no nothing. One's to why we're allowed out into the yard for calisthenics, and maybe a few minutes of free time. . . . Nobody really had time to organize. Aside from turnover, if you went AWOL and managed to stay away for more than a couple of days, here a court-martial is sent to stop it. You are normally sentenced to six months, but that was suspended after a few weeks. Because the point of the stockade was not punishment, but to get the soldier back to duty, that's where they need them, not locked up. I don't know if you it call a rule, but the custom was go AWOL three times. They'll do some stockade time, but you'll get kicked out. A lot of the guys were trying for that. In fact there was a slogan, 'once an AWOL, always an AWOL.'

  
  Wittels spent six months in the stockade. During this time, he contacted the ACLU and explored various legal options for a discharge. He got lucky. His lawyer managed to get the charges dismissed. Eventually, a new company commander asked Wittels to write a letter, explaining the reasons why he should be discharged. Effectively, this meant that he applied once more for discharge as a conscientious objector. He was given a general discharge. Wittels would be free. 

  Examples of Moral Courage

  Higgins: Was ever a moment where you doubted your beliefs, where they pushed you to the point where you broke. If not how did you maintain your core moral belief that you would not participate in military activities?
  
  Wittels: I don't think it was because they pushed me, but I remember in that second solitary thinking about am I doing the right thing? I thought about it and frankly in retrospect, I think it's necessary for people to question their beliefs. Otherwise, you're simply a robot. You're not really thinking. Then I thought, one of the people that inspire me were Martin Luther King . . . Those guys were getting shot and none of that has happened to me yet. It's all been threats. I can be 1/10 as brave as they are, and so King stuck with it, and Dave Dellinger stuck with it, and I had all these examples, and I think it's good to have examples.

  
  
  After his release, Wittels volunteered at the Central Committee for Conscientious Objectors. He did not intend to specialize in military cases, but given his experience, he began counseling draftees. "I was the dissent expert," he explains. Even though Wittels had no college degree, lawyers consulted with him, and he served on panels as a leading expert on conscientious objection. Afterward, he worked out of San Francisco for the West Coast office of the CCCO, training lawyers and counselors. "I am not a lawyer," he says. "I never wanted to be a lawyer." It was through experience and personal conviction, that Wittels found his calling as a dissident. "We are all conscientious objectors. There is a point at which we will not do something. But the law only recognizes those opposed to participation in all wars."
  
  Protecting freedom and democracy are often used in justifying narratives for war, but Wittels warns us "cast a critical and cynical eye on these claims. They might be right," but he asks, "why do so many veterans say . . . I was wrong?"
   

  Listen to the full interviews below.

  Mike Wittels, June 24, 2022, full interview (part 1)

  Mike Wittels, July 1, 2022, full interview (part 2)