A/N: The views on my chapters are finally showing up again! Five months it's been!

—

The reason – well, one of the reasons – that Brian went into journalism was that he wanted to investigate, to tell the truth of what's happening.

The Vietnam War was a catalyst. Before the United States' full-scale involvement began, Brian hardly noticed it as it was a war that still felt very far away. But by 1964, it all changed. The draft was developed to usher young American soldiers into combat to protect America and its allies from the communist Viet Cong.

The Vietnam War was unlike any war before, it was being televised and that led to Brian being glued to every development, how it was being reported, fascinated. When he was asked by his parents what he was going to do after high school, he knew what he wanted to do. The war being televised meant that the first time, the American people could see the horror of war from thousands of miles away. In colour, they witnessed firsthand accounts of the violence and devastation caused by the war.

The question that kept on swimming in Brian's mind was why are they fighting in a war that wasn't theirs to begin with.

It wasn't long before he heard of people's outrage and disapproval of the United States' involvement in the Vietnam War.

—

1964

Brian groans as he stares down at his latest assignment. Maybe going out until 5 in the morning was not such a great idea with the assignment due in just a few days.

There was a bar, Sporters, where Brian's eyes were opened for the first time, to see people like him being free. He meets Bill Conrad who works there, who tells Brian of his story in the army, in Germany, that he didn't know there was a community until he met Bob White who gave him the job.

In a way, college had become a sort of liberation for Brian. He could explore more than he could before, and work out what he now knows to be his bisexuality. He was no longer at home, no longer under his parents' watchful gaze though society wouldn't let him forget.

Bill gives Brian advice, advice on how to survive the police raids that happen every couple of months. Brian learnt to have his ID on him and to not react when they called them names.

He also meets Tommy Martin and Kenneth Jackson. Soon, they're joined by Joyce Harris and Ruth Walker who they meet in the Midtown. He gets along well with his friends, they're like him, outsiders, not accepted by society.

They also bond over their anti-Vietnam war sentiments. Questioning why America is bothering with a war that has nothing to do with them. It becomes a frequent thing, meeting up to discuss it then, that December, Tommy hears word that there's going to be nationwide protests against the Vietnam War in Boston, New York, San Francisco, Philadelphia and many more.

He knows his Dad will disapprove but he doesn't care because he feels like he's actually trying to make a difference, fighting for a cause.

—

November 1965

Of course, it was all going to escalate.

Brian has secured a college deferment to stop him being drafted but he knows his deferment won't protect him forever. These days, more and more men are being drafted to fight in a war that has nothing to do with them, pointless dying and for what? To stop the supposed great evil of communism?

In August, President Johnson signs a law making it a federal crime to destroy or mutilate draft cards. On October 15th, David Miller publicly burns his draft card, becoming the first person to be prosecuted under that law.

That doesn't stop it, if anything, David Miller becomes a symbol of the movement against the war. A movement Brian is a part of. No more passive non-compliance with the National Service Scheme, now it is time to actively demonstrate their distaste for the actions of their government.

Brian feels the heat of the flames flicker across his cheeks as he watches the paper of the draft cards begin to turn black and scrunch up until they're just ashes settling into the fire or blowing away in the wind.

Brian thinks of his friend, Tommy, who had sought to evade the draft by enlisting in military forces that were unlikely to see combat in Vietnam, such as the Coast Guard, like so many others but that didn't save him.

Sudden yelling penetrates through the smoke in his mind as well as the actual smoke around them. Brian quickly realises the police have arrived. Brian is grabbed and soon finds himself being shoved into a locked room with multiple others, some he recognises as his friends.

—

After a while (a couple of hours maybe?), the door is opened.

"Hey, Randall!" A guard yells, gaining his attention.

The guard grabs his arm and yanks him up. Brian has no choice but to follow him. He's pulled along corridors until they reach another room. The door is open and Brian is led in to see—

"Dad?"

Dad clears his throat awkwardly, nodding to the guard who releases Brian's arm and leaves the room.

"Brian." He says it so surely but Brian can see how his hands fidget where they rest at his sides.

"What's going on?" Brian questions.

"It's best you come home for a short while." Dad tells him. It's an order more than a suggestion.

Oh.

"They're letting me go?"

"Yes."

"What did you do?"

"People respect me, Brian. You're lucky they're willing to overlook the federal crime you committed." The accusation is heavy in his voice.

Brian hates how his Dad is making him feel like he did something wrong but he knows it's best not to say anything so he instead nods, clenching his jaw in frustration.

"Why did you do this?" Dad questions. "This isn't like you."

"You're wrong, this is me." Brian retorts, frustrated. "And you know it."

Sorry, I'm not like you.

—

"Don't tell your mother or Ellen," Dad says as they pull up outside the house.

Brian nods.

"And you're not taking part in these sorts of activities again."

Brian starts at that. "But—"

"I mean it, Brian." Dad clamps down. "You've gotten away with a warning this time, doesn't mean it'll happen again."

—

Brian hates being at home, he's trying to be on his best behaviour while at home. That doesn't stop Brian from being faced with pointed comments and questions by his Dad whenever he returns from being out of the house. Mama frowns at Dad, deciding he is at fault for whatever is going on here even though she doesn't know what's going on. He wants to go back to college as soon as possible.

Maybe that's why Brian felt such freedom when going to another protest in March the next year, only a couple of months after Dad's death. However, despite his friends' insistence, he doesn't go back to college, not when Mama and Ellen are struggling after Dad's death (in different ways) and he can't leave them.

—

April 1968

Brian watches Roger and Ellen laugh as they dance on the quay before he takes his gaze off them and looks down at the newspaper in his hands. Roger had taken them to Loch Duntelchaig. Brian had let them run ahead knowing that neither would mind.

In the back of Roger's car had been today's newspaper, which the Oxford Professor had thrown into the back of the car once they were all buckled in and driven off.

The headline reads: WESTMORELAND REQUESTS 206,000 MORE MEN, STIRRING DEBATE IN ADMINISTRATION: Enemy Hammers 7 Sites On the Outskirts of Saigon

The report seems to make it clear that America and its allies can't win the war. He hopes this is it, the catalyst for the rest of the country to turn against the war because it won't survive without national support.

Brian remembers that only in February did Walter Cronkite (known as "the most trusted man in America") say on CBS Evening News that the war was "mired in stalemate".

Maybe now, this increasingly sceptical and pessimistic tone of reporting may begin to reflect similar feelings among the American public. There are too many casualties on the American side, it keeps building up. People can't continue supporting a war that's just killing them all off for no reason.

What most undermined support for the war was simply the level of American casualties: the greater the increase in casualties, the lower the level of public support for the war.

Brian wishes he was back in the States, back at work to be a part of it all, reporting on this rather than follow his sister and his new friend gallivant across Inverness.

—

A/N: The chapter title was found here: tag/strive-for-peace/

Sporters bar was at 228 Cambridge Street, Boston. It opened in 1939 and became an "official" gay bar in 1957. It served as an integral gathering space for the burgeoning gay community in the city. The building featured an unmarked façade without windows—ideal for protecting the identity of its patrons. Sporters faced frequent police raids, as did many queer establishments. The police would ask for ID. If you didn't have ID, they'd arrest you and put your name in the paper. For many men, this meant being fired from their jobs and even evicted from their homes. Bob White and Bill Conrad were real people who worked there. It closed its doors in 1995.