The picture is me at age 20 as a Marine on the deck of the helicopter carrier USS Okinawa off the coast of Vietnam sometime in October 1967. I don't remember being so young or what was in my mind at the time. I didn't plan for a future because I expected to die before age 21. The night before I left home I got a drag racing ticket about two in the morning. The cop told me I would have to be in court in July. I told him I would be in Vietnam.
"We'll be waiting at your door when you get back," he said.
"If I make it back, I'll be glad to see you."
I had a real world fatalistic attitude. I tore the ticket up before he drove away and never heard anymore about it. Maybe the judge figured I was in enough trouble.
This morning I saw an article about a 25 year old veteran who killed himself after the VA turned him away when he sought help for PTSD. I usually never tell anyone except other veterans that I'm 100% service-connected for PTSD. I have been for years. Based on my service records fromVietnam, the VA agreed that my life had changed forever. I wasn't me anymore. I went to one-on-one therapy for so long that my doctor grew old and retired. Nothing changed. I had the same nightmares, slept in two hour shifts, the same job problems with authority, multiple marriages, and a ferocity without conscience toward strangers who threatened me. Strangers were the enemy; the enemy are objects, not people. The only thing I lacked was the tendency toward alcohol and drugs. I probably would be spending my life in prison for a violent crime because I'm dangerous under the influence. I was lucky enough to realize this and keep iron control at all times.
"We'll be waiting at your door when you get back," he said.
"If I make it back, I'll be glad to see you."
I had a real world fatalistic attitude. I tore the ticket up before he drove away and never heard anymore about it. Maybe the judge figured I was in enough trouble.
This morning I saw an article about a 25 year old veteran who killed himself after the VA turned him away when he sought help for PTSD. I usually never tell anyone except other veterans that I'm 100% service-connected for PTSD. I have been for years. Based on my service records fromVietnam, the VA agreed that my life had changed forever. I wasn't me anymore. I went to one-on-one therapy for so long that my doctor grew old and retired. Nothing changed. I had the same nightmares, slept in two hour shifts, the same job problems with authority, multiple marriages, and a ferocity without conscience toward strangers who threatened me. Strangers were the enemy; the enemy are objects, not people. The only thing I lacked was the tendency toward alcohol and drugs. I probably would be spending my life in prison for a violent crime because I'm dangerous under the influence. I was lucky enough to realize this and keep iron control at all times.
After reading the article this morning, I sat in the dark before dawn and the jungle nights returned. It doesn't take much, even after 40 years. I guess some could say this is our fate. War changes the warriors. Most people don't understand how severe that change can be. The endless war in our minds is not a disease or a mental illness, as the media machine seeking stories often make people believe. We are not psychos. We experience a long term reaction to events outside the ordinary scope of life. The only way to remove the memories is to remove the brain. The Endless War never goes away.
My PTSD isn't combat-related, but I do understand the endless war. For the longest time, I *was* treated as though I were mentally ill, when in fact the problem is a learned response to severe trauma.
ReplyDeleteWhat we're doing now with our vets is a crime. You guys did your part, fought our battles, risked your lives, maybe got physically injured - and certainly got hurt psychologically. This country reneged on our part, letting you rot without any adequate It's like saying, Thanks for being our heroes, now go away somewhere and die. Makes me ashamed to be a civilian...