Amidst the tumultuous cheers and clapping hands at the Western Michigan-Kent State basketball game last weekend, there sat two rows of men unable to rise even to acknowledge their own standing ovation. They, victims of man’s crime against man, watched other men dribble a ball some of them were unable to hold; watched men jump and run in a manner most of them would never do again; and watched the victors smile happily in manner few of them would ever experience again. How many more men must be brought home in chairs that must be pushed and pulled by others? Managing Editors How many more will sacrifice a limb or an eye or a future? How many more, Mr. President? Is there an end in sight? How many more mothers will sit beside flag-dropped metal wombs that hold their sons who will never emerge alive? How many more caskets will be filled with the pride of America, found soul-less, alive or dead, on the distant battle field. The boats and the planes return daily filled with the life-less, the armless and the scarred survivors. Some marred physically, others mentally disturbed by the sights and sounds of war. How many more, Mr. President, must feel the horror of seeing a friend die beside them? Or know the inglorious terror of taking the life of another? Do you forsee any hope of peace, Mr. President? Or must families wait along side the already fatherless to hear of news from a battlefield too long strewn with corpses and watered with the life of those who went for a cause although their leaders had no reason? How many more must sit like the Veterans did at the game while generals make moves with human lives across the sea? How many more will know happiness only if they are taken somewhere because they cannot go themselves? Will the death-in-life for those that survived ever cease? Or will new ones fill the wheel-chair ranks? What is the future of peace, Mr. President. . .Is there a future? BILL LAZARUS