The Hell of Coming Home
Even as a kid I knew my father acted differently than other dads. He was not abusive or an alcoholic but he did things other men in the family did not do. He would jump up in bed holding an invisible rifle. When helicopters passed over head he would get the fear of god in his face. He walked oddly, placing the edge of his heel on the ground and then rock to the front. He was impossible to hear walking around the house. Sometimes, he would be sitting down with his obligatory cup of coffee and cigarette talking under his breath to no one.
The fourth of July was a night of twitches.
He had several jobs, never keeping them long, but always had a new one before he left the old. He finally settled into the NYC Department of Sanitation where transfers and tests for new positions were always open.
My father is a Vietnam Vet and I am proud to be his son.
As I grew older I learned more about his condition, PTSD, and how fortunate we actually were. My father's symptoms were slight, some like the walking more a result of training than any delusional mental condition. I was so proud of his service, as well as the service of many family members, that I wanted to carry on what I perceived to be a tradition. That's when I finally met the man who is my father.
The stories began to flow. Slowly but surely he tried to initiate me into the horrors of war. He told me of the VC he saw shot in half by a .50 cal machine gun. I could see the pain in his eyes as he described the VC's lower half lunging forward as the tattered upper half fell back into the brush.
I could see the sadness as he related stories of his best friend Bobby Banks. He was a sandy haired kid from California, my father has been told that Bobby re-upped and was killed, but to this day we don't know for sure.
Long story short, between my father's catharsis and the sports of youth trashing my knee, I never served.
Thanks to fellow veterans who took the initiative and formed the Vietnam Parades of the mid 80's my dad seems to have shed the worst memories of the 'Nam, but he still walks that silent walk and every once in a while I still see him take his place in that long patrol. Many vets held in one of the many under funded and understaffed VA hospitals had left "The World" and were still "patrolling Saigon" as my father says. Many of those lost will never return to us. They are trapped in a nightmare world where Charlie is around ever corner and the sound of tracer and grenades punctuate the war zone of their mind.
So it is with a heavy heart that I read the following article.
From Boston.com:
We cannot afford to let these men and women suffer like the soldiers of the Vietnam era. The Republican controlled Congress has time and again attacked the VA budget. Hospitals have closed and benefits slashed. We as Americans, regardless of party affiliation must stand by our troops both in the field and when they come home.
We cannot seek the refuge of the Chickenhawks and the 101st Flying Keyboardists who moan and wail that support of Bush is support for the troops. They are mutually exclusive events. This administration has turned our brave men and women into voiceless and nameless non-entities. We do not see their sacrifice (unless Stephen Bochco directs) nor do we grieve their loss. We do not see their flag covered caskets carried with honor nor do we see ANYONE in the administration attend their funerals.
You want to support our troops start here at Operation Truth!.
Postscript: A few folks have asked me over the years if I ever served in combat. I could never figure out what there was about me that gave that indication. It was always the same thing that fooled even veterans of Panama, Grenada, and the ME wars.
I walk silent, like my dad..
The fourth of July was a night of twitches.
He had several jobs, never keeping them long, but always had a new one before he left the old. He finally settled into the NYC Department of Sanitation where transfers and tests for new positions were always open.
My father is a Vietnam Vet and I am proud to be his son.
As I grew older I learned more about his condition, PTSD, and how fortunate we actually were. My father's symptoms were slight, some like the walking more a result of training than any delusional mental condition. I was so proud of his service, as well as the service of many family members, that I wanted to carry on what I perceived to be a tradition. That's when I finally met the man who is my father.
The stories began to flow. Slowly but surely he tried to initiate me into the horrors of war. He told me of the VC he saw shot in half by a .50 cal machine gun. I could see the pain in his eyes as he described the VC's lower half lunging forward as the tattered upper half fell back into the brush.
I could see the sadness as he related stories of his best friend Bobby Banks. He was a sandy haired kid from California, my father has been told that Bobby re-upped and was killed, but to this day we don't know for sure.
Long story short, between my father's catharsis and the sports of youth trashing my knee, I never served.
Thanks to fellow veterans who took the initiative and formed the Vietnam Parades of the mid 80's my dad seems to have shed the worst memories of the 'Nam, but he still walks that silent walk and every once in a while I still see him take his place in that long patrol. Many vets held in one of the many under funded and understaffed VA hospitals had left "The World" and were still "patrolling Saigon" as my father says. Many of those lost will never return to us. They are trapped in a nightmare world where Charlie is around ever corner and the sound of tracer and grenades punctuate the war zone of their mind.
So it is with a heavy heart that I read the following article.
From Boston.com:
Iraq war vet arrested in Las Vegas slayLAS VEGAS --An Iraq veteran carrying an assault rifle on his way to buy beer killed a woman and wounded a man in a Las Vegas alley, authorities said.
Army Spc. Matthew Sepi, 20, told police he was ambushed, but officials have not been able to determine the exact circumstances of the shooting early Sunday. Sepi said he had been trained in the military that in an ambush he should engage his targets and retreat, according to police.
Sharon Jackson, 47, was killed and Kevin Ratcliff, 26, was wounded but expected to recover, authorities said. Police reported finding a 9-mm pistol and three bullet casings in the alley.
The New England Journal of Medicine has released a report documenting the cases of PTSD in returning Iraq/Afghanistan veterans. They are simply chilling.
Exposure to combat was significantly greater among those who were deployed to Iraq than among those deployed to Afghanistan. The percentage of study subjects whose responses met the screening criteria for major depression, generalized anxiety, or PTSD was significantly higher after duty in Iraq (15.6 to 17.1 percent) than after duty in Afghanistan (11.2 percent) or before deployment to Iraq (9.3 percent); the largest difference was in the rate of PTSD. Of those whose responses were positive for a mental disorder, only 23 to 40 percent sought mental health care. Those whose responses were positive for a mental disorder were twice as likely as those whose responses were negative to report concern about possible stigmatization and other barriers to seeking mental health care.
We cannot afford to let these men and women suffer like the soldiers of the Vietnam era. The Republican controlled Congress has time and again attacked the VA budget. Hospitals have closed and benefits slashed. We as Americans, regardless of party affiliation must stand by our troops both in the field and when they come home.
We cannot seek the refuge of the Chickenhawks and the 101st Flying Keyboardists who moan and wail that support of Bush is support for the troops. They are mutually exclusive events. This administration has turned our brave men and women into voiceless and nameless non-entities. We do not see their sacrifice (unless Stephen Bochco directs) nor do we grieve their loss. We do not see their flag covered caskets carried with honor nor do we see ANYONE in the administration attend their funerals.
You want to support our troops start here at Operation Truth!.
Postscript: A few folks have asked me over the years if I ever served in combat. I could never figure out what there was about me that gave that indication. It was always the same thing that fooled even veterans of Panama, Grenada, and the ME wars.
I walk silent, like my dad..