COLUMN ONE : Unwilling Warriors’ New Battle : With self-declared conscientious objectors facing courts-martial, the military hopes to maintain discipline. The Marine Corps may be the toughest disciplinarian.

David Bobbitt first suspected he was different from his fellow Marines on a crisp autumn morning five years ago in the backwoods of Virginia.

Bobbitt remembers the day like yesterday. It was just a few months after boot camp, and he was on a hunting trip with his father. Bobbitt was never a very good shot, but that day the skinny towhead from New York City was right on target.

“I shot squirrels when I was a kid, but it never quite sank in,” recalled the former Marine Corps sergeant. “Then I shot that deer, and I got the picture. It was a nasty experience. I just looked at that deer and felt remorse. I never wanted to do that again.”

He never did. Bobbitt refused to show up last November when his reserve unit was deployed to Saudi Arabia, choosing to hide for 11 days and declare himself a conscientious objector. Last week, he was stripped of his rank, issued a dishonorable discharge and sent to military prison for 14 months without pay for desertion and missing a military movement.

“I can’t kill,” Bobbitt told a judge at Camp Lejeune, the sprawling Marine base that anchors this seaside town.

Bobbitt is among 40 self-declared conscientious objectors--both active Marines and reservists--at Camp Lejeune who face criminal prosecution and court-martial proceedings for refusing to fight in the Persian Gulf War. A desertion charge generally carries a maximum five-year prison term, but in extreme cases, the death penalty.

Military prosecutor Maj. John Weil, an Arizona bankruptcy lawyer and Marine reservist, derided Bobbitt as a “sunshine patriot” whose professed objections of conscience were “pathetically convenient.”

“He is an opportunist. He is a manipulator,” Weil told the judge. “He will do anything to avoid responsibility for his actions.”

Dozens of other unwilling warriors await hearings on similar criminal charges at military bases nationwide, in Germany and in Saudi Arabia. Peace activists, civil-rights lawyers and some conscientious objectors say hundreds more remain in hiding because they fear the wrath of a vengeful military.

The war in the Persian Gulf may be over, they say, but a spirit of charity and forgiveness has not prevailed on the home front in the postwar era. For many who elected not to bear arms, the battle has just begun.

“If they don’t want to fight for their country, they shouldn’t live here,” said Cpl. Kevin Corley, reflecting a common sentiment among the 8,000 Marines who returned to Camp Lejeune last week as court-martial proceedings moved forward against several conscientious objectors. “What is the point of joining the military if you are not going to fight?”

Military officials say the prosecutions at Camp Lejeune and elsewhere are necessary to maintain discipline and to set an example for soldiers in future conflicts. It is not a question of charity, they say; it is a matter of principle: Soldiers who break the law, regardless of their professed religious beliefs, should be punished.

Such cases were handled with comparative leniency after the Vietnam War, but the tough stance this time around is meant to serve notice to enlistees that an all-volunteer military means more than college tuition and occasional weekend drills. If you join the Armed Forces, military officials warn, you must be willing to go to war.

“As a Marine and a Marine reservist, I would be disappointed in any commander who did not follow through and see that . . . an (accused) individual was appropriately sent to a judicial forum,” said Lt. Col. John Atkinson, who oversees courts-martial at Camp Lejeune, where the largest number of objectors are being held.

Anti-war activists and many conscientious objectors complain that military officials, caught up in the euphoria of victory, are coming down too hard on those who did not share their enthusiasm for battle.

War resisters did not set out to undermine military discipline, they insist, but rather feared being forced into battle if they reported for duty. Unable to kill, their consciences left them no alternative but to refuse to go.

Now, with the war over--and victory achieved without the help of these soldiers, they note--the healing process should begin. What type of society, they ask, seeks retribution against those who refuse to kill?

“They are going to make the sick kid sicker,” said Thomas Bobbitt, a New York City fireman who wept as he spoke of his son. “They want to punish him. How much more do they want to do to this kid? What can they prove to the world if they hurt him any more?”

David Bobbitt, who twice was admitted to a military hospital for psychiatric care while awaiting trial, confessed last week that he looked forward to prison as an escape from the day-to-day harassment in the Marines. Other conscientious objectors complained that they have been treated with less regard than Iraqi prisoners of war.

Building No. 8 at Camp Lejeune, a two-story brick barracks where nearly two dozen conscientious objectors live, has become known derisively as “Yellow No. 8” among Marines. Objectors report receiving anonymous death threats and complain that their commanding officers have publicly humiliated them by calling them cowards, homosexuals and communists in front of other Marines.

Marine Lance Cpl. Erik Larsen, a conscientious objector from Hayward, Calif., who refused to report when activated, was taken in handcuffs on a commercial flight from San Francisco to North Carolina after surrendering to military authorities last month. The Marine Corps said the treatment was warranted, but Larsen insists that the public display was meant to embarrass him because of his beliefs.

“The vindictiveness the military has shown these young people is beyond anything I have encountered with the military before,” said Ron Kuby, a New York civil rights attorney who has counseled 200 conscientious objectors since August. “They are not good losers, we know that. What we didn’t know was that they are also very bad winners.”

By any reckoning, conscientious objectors account for just a fraction of the 540,000 troops deployed to the Persian Gulf and a small percentage of the 4,483 deserters being sought by the four military services.

The Pentagon says it has received requests from about 200 applicants for conscientious objector status since September, a statistic officials acknowledge understates the problem because applicants undergo a lengthy evaluation at their military bases before requests are forwarded to Washington.

Anti-war groups estimate that applicants number in the thousands. A survey by the War Resisters League, a New York-based organization that has assisted resisters for more than six decades, found that 2,500 military men and women have filed so-called CO claims. About 150, the group estimates, face court-martial proceedings and criminal prosecution for offenses related to their claims.

Regardless of their numbers, conscientious objectors have presented a public relations problem for the Department of Defense. For a military dependent on volunteers to fill its ranks, even a small faction of vocal malcontents can cause harm.

Larsen toured the United States and Europe criticizing the war before turning himself in last month. Several other conscientious objectors made headlines when they were designated “prisoners of conscience” by the human rights organization Amnesty International, which usually reserves such designations for captives of repressive regimes.

Others have held news conferences, attended anti-war rallies and appeared on network television. The War Resisters League and Hands Off!, a New York-based support group for resisters, called a news conference near Camp Lejeune last week to publicize Bobbitt’s court-martial and the others to follow.

“Enough of being afraid of what people think,” said Bobbitt, 26, an elevator mechanic in Manhattan. “The hell with it. I should have said something four years ago, instead of just coasting along and saying to myself that it will be over soon. It is time to attack things, and say, listen, this is it--this is who I am.”

The publicity has done more than make military officials uncomfortable. It has elevated the claims of some highly visible conscientious objectors into test cases for future wars, prompting great scrutiny by anti-war groups and Pentagon officials. And that, some conscientious objectors sympathizers say, may have been a mistake.

William Smith, a Los Angeles attorney who specializes in military law, said he has advised dozens of conscientious objectors to keep quiet--and away from the media--to avoid angering the military.

Smith said the Army has quietly canceled the orders of many reservists who filed conscientious objector claims and did not report to duty when activated. In other cases, he said, resisters from all branches of the military have received “a slap on the wrist” and sentenced to short prison terms or sent home--if they dealt with their problems out of the public eye.

“It is a mixed bag from cancellation of orders to three years’ imprisonment for the same offense,” Smith said. “The guys at Camp Lejeune are being thrown horrendous sentences. Sometimes publicity backfires.”

Some Camp Lejeune officials blamed anti-war groups and civil rights attorneys for stirring up unrest among the conscientious objectors, who as late as January were offered clemency if they agreed to report to their units. Only one resister accepted the offer.

“Who gains from the public relations effort that is going on?” asked spokesman Maj. Jay Farrar. “Are we going to remember (the accused Marine) three years down the road, or are we going to remember a lawyer’s name?”

Smith said he also feared that some conscientious objectors have been used by political organizations to “further their own agendas.” He said some groups encouraged resisters to seek publicity without explaining the potential consequences.

At Camp Lejeune, representatives from the War Resisters League and Hands Off! worked day and night last week helping some resisters prepare their court-martial cases. Staffers Michael Marsh and Melissa Ennen routinely sat in on sessions between conscientious objectors and their attorneys.

Marsh said the two groups work directly with the lawyers and were sought out by the conscientious objectors for moral and legal support. Several resisters denied that they had been manipulated by any anti-war groups and defended the help they received.

Kuby, the civil rights attorney who represents several Camp Lejeune resisters, said the Marine Corps is bent on being “the toughest and most vicious” branch of the military. He said the Marines cautiously dealt with resisters last fall, but by January, when it was clear that the nation was rallying around the war effort, it cracked down and began sending them to prison.

Maj. Doreen Burger, a Marine Corps spokeswoman, would not comment on Kuby’s allegations, but noted that the Marines revere their reputation as the military elite.

“We are Marines. We are ready. We are tough. We are strong,” Burger said. “What do you join the Marine Corps for? Because of the discipline.”

It is that sort of mentality, many resisters say, that first led them to question their commitment to military service. Many claim they were misled by recruiters, who lured them to boot camp with the prospect of educational and vocational benefits but skirted discussions about combat readiness and wartime obligations.

Cpl. Enrique Gonzalez, 24, a first-year law student in Miami, said he joined the reserves thinking he would march in parades, participate in food drives and assist needy children. At boot camp, he said, he cringed when his sergeant demonstrated how to plunge a bayonet between the ribs of an enemy soldier and twist the blade before removing it.

Cpl. John Isaac III said his recruiter visited his drug-infested Harlem neighborhood offering a vision of hope, complete with money for college and a sterling entry on an otherwise paltry resume. The recruiter even treated the aspiring hospital administrator to a pizza after he agreed to an eight-year contract.

It was not until he went to see the Vietnam movie “Platoon” that Isaac says he realized what really was expected of him.

“You train to kill, but it is not real,” said Isaac, 23. “It is like playing a video game. That movie shocked me. I turned to my friend, and said, ‘This is crazy! This is real. This is not the games we play on weekends.’ ”

At an Army base near Frankfurt, Germany, Sgt. Addis Wiley, a gunner on a Bradley tank, said he “received Christ” in November during a visit home to New York, where he was baptized in a church in Harlem.

When his unit was deployed in late December, Wiley disappeared for 58 hours, jumping teary-eyed on a train with his Bible in hand.

“I feel that I am basically suffering some of Christ’s suffering when he had to make a stance,” said Wiley, 23. “Sometimes he does not come when you want him, but when he does come, you have to accept him.”

Such stories strike many in and out of the military as self-serving and unbelievable. “They make me really angry,” said Jennifer Tiefert, a Marine wife who was among the thousands greeting returning troops last week at Camp Lejeune. “They reap the benefits of the military, but when something is really required of them, they don’t do it. It is not fair. It is not right.”

Atkinson, who heads legal services at the base, also questioned the sincerity of the claims.

“Can you possibly go through the fifth grade without knowing the carnage that war can bring, be it World War II, be it Vietnam, now be it Iraq?” Atkinson said. “No. People know when they go into the military what the military’s mission is if called upon. That’s a fact. What they may talk about at a later point of time, because their interests can be served, that may be different.”

In the coming months, many conscientious objectors face the difficult task of deciding whether to accept pretrial agreements that would limit the length of any prison term they might receive.

All eight Marines sentenced at Camp Lejeune accepted such agreements, which required them to plead guilty to such charges as desertion and intentionally missing a military movement. Although their sentences ranged from 14 months to three years, the pretrial agreements assure that none serves more than 14 months.

Bobbitt said he agreed to his deal because he knew his 11-day absence last November was wrong. Others said they deserted only because the military backed them into a corner by taking too long to respond to their conscientious objector requests.

Last week, one Marine who had signed a pretrial agreement had a near mental breakdown less than an hour before he was scheduled to plead guilty, sending him to the hospital and delaying the proceedings. Friends said the 22-year-old private did not believe he was guilty and could not bring himself to honor the agreement.

Meanwhile, Bobbitt emerged from his trial relieved that the “hard part” for him was over. As he was escorted to prison, his weeping mother clutched a photograph of an image of the Holy Mother taken by a priest at a church in Yugoslavia.

Connie Bobbitt said the snapshot has brought her good luck. She has quit smoking. Her husband has stopped drinking. And now, her son would be leaving the Marines.

OBJECTORS: THE NUMBERS

The Pentagon has released these figures on applications for conscientious objector status since September. Anti-war groups say the numbers are far too low, in part because many cases handled by individual units have not been reported to the Pentagon. A survey by the War Resisters League found as many as 2,500 claims. Here are the Pentagon numbers:

Branch Total Approved Disapproved Withdrawn Pending ARMY 75 45 25 5 0 NAVY 35 24* 4 0 7 AIR FORCE 28 21 6 0 1 MARINES 40 15 13 0 12

* Includes two sailors who remain on active duty in non-combatant roles.

OBJECTORS: THE DEFINITIONS

What is a Conscientious Objector?

According to the Department of Defense, a conscientious objection is a firm, fixed and sincere objection to participation in war in any form or the bearing of arms, by reason of religious training and belief. The Pentagon defines two kinds of objectors:

* Class 1-0: A person who sincerely objects to participation of any kind in war in any form.

* Class 1-A-0: A person who sincerely objects to participation as a combatant in war in any form, but whose convictions permit military service in a noncombatant status.

Criteria for a Conscientious Objector

The DOD has established rules for considering CO applications from active and reserve personnel in the Army, Navy, Air Force and Marines. Applications may be approved for an individual:

* Who is conscientiously opposed to participation in war in any form;

* Whose opposition is founded on religious training and belief; and

* Whose position is sincere and deeply held.

There is no provision for individuals who object to a specific war rather than all wars. The DOD criteria hold that an individual who chooses the war in which he or she will participate is not a conscientious objector under the law.

Making the Claim

The applicant has the burden of establishing the claim during a three-part evaluation of the request:

* The self-declared objector is interviewed by a military chaplain to determine the sincerity and depth of conviction.

* A psychiatrist tests the applicant for character or personality disorders.

* A military officer interviews witnesses and holds a confidential hearing, before making a recommendation to the applicant’s command.

The applicant is required to report to duty, even during wartime, while the claim is processed. If the application is approved, Class 1-0 objectors are discharged. Class 1-A-0 objectors are assigned to noncombatant duty or discharged, depending on military needs.

SOURCE: Department of Defense