Download PDF of this full issue: v54n2.pdf (38.8 MB)

Barry Romo: He Lived For Us

By Geoffrey Millard

Remarks from Barry Romo Memorial Day event in Chicago, May 27, 2024.

The first time I met Barry Romo, he cussed me out. True story. Here I was, a fresh from Iraq disillusioned war vet who couldn't understand why after decades, he held on to the same beef from fucking 1972.

As IVAW turns 20, I understand him a bit more than I did in those days. All I saw then was a man whom I'd read about in books and idolized, calling me a motherfucker.

I fell in love with Barry that day. Not because he cussed me out but because by the end of the day, he was drunkenly hugging me and telling me how much he admired me. It was that a cussing out didn't mean he didn't care or respect me. He didn't toss me out, nor did I him.

In the days that followed, I went to his apartment, and it was like walking through a museum. He showed me pictures, news articles, books, and films (mostly VHS tapes) while he poetically reminisced for hours.

At one point, while we sat at his dining room table, he stared down at the table, ran his hand softly across its dust-covered mess, and said, in almost a remorseful tone, "This was the VVAW office for a few of the lean years."

Lean years, he called them—the time when the world had moved on from Vietnam, having replaced real heroes like Dave Cline and Barry Romo with fictional portrayals of the war.

He talked to me about the times he wanted to give it all up, but he couldn't. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't walk away from VVAW.

He held on despite decades of dwindling numbers and more than their share of funerals.

He held on for us. He knew that, and I hope he also knew that we were grateful then and remain grateful today.

I was so lost in the years after my war. Deeply traumatized from the war, as much as don't ask, don't tell. Those first few years after Iraq were just survival for me, and it's because of Iraq Veterans Against the War that I somehow made it through. It's because of VVAW that there was ever an IVAW. It's because of Vietnam Veterans Against the War that we had guiding hands in those early hard years of coming home and trying to end our war. They were always there guiding us in our protest, in our VA claims process, and in trying to have a life somehow after the war ended.

There's a handful of Vietnam vets without whom IVAW would never have existed. Barry Romo was one of those Vietnam veterans.

I remember the night the Winter Soldier II testimony ended, and his work as security had one more gig. He stood watch as we let out some steam in a small private performance from Tom Morello of Rage Against the Machine. He never stopped looking out for us. From Winter Soldier to the NATO March, he watched over us.

There's this song about touching a name on the wall and a lyric that goes.

"Some folks say they all died for nothing but I can't completely agree, cuz this brother here he didn't die for no country he died for me."

That lyric haunts many who understand what those words mean, but when I think of Barry Romo, he didn't live for no country; he lived for me… for us.

He lived through the war and escorting his own nephew's body home so that he could hug us when our family came home in flag draped coffins.

He lived through the, let's face it, completely insane heyday of VVAW so that he could point us in the right direction when IVAW was learning to crawl.

He lived through fights with the VA over Agent Orange and nightmares of the war so that he could recognize the burn pits that fueled our nightmares, helping us understand and then fight for our VA benefits.

He lived through the funerals of comrades so that he could hold us when ours were laid to rest.

He lived through the lean years of VVAW being but a mailing list on his dining room table so that IVAW could open an office in a closet.

He lived for us…

I know that the rest of his personal life suffered because he gave so much to us; I am eternally grateful and deeply sorry for that.

Thank you, Barry Romo, for living for me. Rest now, old friend. Your watch has ended, and ours continues.

Geoffrey Millard is an Iraq War veteran and early organizer with Iraq Veterans Against the War.

Geoffrey Millard at Barry Romo Memorial Day event in Chicago, May 27, 2024.