My regular readers know that I am a veteran with PTSD. For those of you who are not familiar with my writings over the past two years, I will do a brief recap.
I spent 9 years on active duty from October 1973 thru September 1982. I moved to Georgia and joined the National Guard. I was activated with the 48th Brigade for Desert Storm; after the war I went back to my regular Guard unit (the 878th Engineer Battalion). Next, I was deployed to Khasab Air Force Base, Oman. It is on the tip of Oman's northern coast and we spent evenings watching the smugglers make the runs into Iran from the United Arab Emirates and back, to make money.
In the Veterans Administration (VA), the health care system and the claims system are two entirely different worlds. Regardless of how many incidents (stressors) you have, the VA Claims system (VARO) focuses in on one incident that caused your PTSD. They do not want to hear a year’s worth of stress caused your PTSD or what traumatic event you keep replaying in your head or what root of the problem is. They can't comprehend that sometimes there are many scenes playing.
For me it's cathartic to write about my life. I hope that by laying out the truth, maybe one soldier, veteran or family member may be able to see what I went through and something may click. "Hey, do I want to mess my life up like that guy did, because of the stigma in admitting you are having problems sleeping and with your attitude? Drinking yourself into oblivion to make the demons go away (so you can close your eyes)? When that doesn't work you attempt drugs, or become a workaholic.
At one point in my life I was delivering mail as a letter carrier for the post office and owned a pizza delivery store. I would get up at 5:30 am to be at the PO at 6:00 am, work there until 2:00 pm. If overtime was offered, I’d work until 6:00 pm. Then I’d go to the store and close it at midnight. After I’d cleaned the last dishes and put the food away, it would be 1:00 am one a. m by the time I found my bed. And nights when the demons would visit; I was up constantly checking the doors and windows to make sure they were locked.
Frequently I would find myself back in one of the scenes playing thru my head. I had many of what the shrinks define as stressors. The first was being slipped LSD in an open coke cup I was drinking from. I ended up in a padded cell at Madigan Army Medical center at Fort Lewis, on June 13, 1974. That was two weeks before I was to go to Edgewood Arsenal for the human experiments.
I still see some of the flashbacks so vividly imprinted in my brain. White chalk marks on the pool table lifting up and spinning like the Milky Way. I was caught in the alphabet, trying to find the letter that would let me out - I remember the letter P. The next thing I remember was waking up in the padded cell. I learned later the MP's and the Company Commander came and did a health and welfare inspection. They didn't believe I didn't do drugs, but they caught a Hawaiian guy in my Platoon with over 1000 hits of 4 way windowpane. He admitted to slipping it in my coke. I guess my bad trip showed them I didn't use drugs. I went to Edgewood and never saw him again. I still have no idea about what happened to him, but I never drink from cups I haven't had in front of me and only drink from bottles or cans that were sealed.
In February 1975 in Alaska 7 fellow soldiers beat me unconscious. They left me in a snow bank with temperatures at 20 below zero. Luckily, I came to and crawled to the nearest building which was the bowling alley. The MPs took me to the hospital. When I got out 2 days later I saw the man who pushed me down into the snow, just before the boots started flying into my head and ribs.
I went to my Company XO (Executive Officer), and the man was taken by CID (Criminal Investigative Division). An hour later they came back to CSC (Combat Support Company), and took away 6 more men. When we’d returned to Fort Lewis (Washington), the seven were confined to the base but free within their company area, pending a general court martial. One evening I was on the sidewalk near the small PX on North Fort and a car came onto the sidewalk. I tucked and rolled and the car missed me. I went to the battalion CSM (Command Sergeant Major) and asked for help.
They put the men in jail. After 4 of the men were sent to Leavenworth Prison, I was getting threats from their friends. I asked for and was given a transfer to Korea. My brother arranged for me to be assigned to his unit, 1/31st Infantry battalion. It was stationed on the DMZ where all the border incidents happened. I was there during Operation Paul Bunyan, when Captain Bonifas died. A crazy North Korean officer killed Captain Bonifas while he led a Korean work detail in the DMZ, trimming trees back from the road.
There was the incident in Germany in May 1979 where my best friend was drunk and walked into the street. I saw him killed by a car, and I still see it.
I was at Fort Lewis Washington when Mount Saint Helens blew up – a very memorable event, but not a repayable event. After they opened Fort Irwin - the new national Training center for desert warfare - I was among the first to volunteer. I was the 6th NCO assigned to the 6/31st Infantry. We spent 11 1/2 months in the field annually.
With many mechanized vehicles, tanks, APCs, live fire exercises, training rounds, simulators. There were numerous accidents, hands and arms being blown apart, vehicles rolling off the hills or into the ravines, troops killed and injured. Training itself is dangerous.
I was there on the drop zone when the 82nd made the first jump into Bicycle Lake. 174 men were injured and sent to hospitals all over Southern California - San Diego, Norton AFB, March AFB, where ever they could find beds. There were the 4 men who died that day. One did a cigarette roll, 3 were bounced off jeeps they were dropping at the same time as the men. The wind pushed them into the jeeps.
No one knew that about 100-150 feet above the ground the winds were blowing fast. When they popped the smoke on the drop zone it went straight up. They dropped the equipment at the same time they dropped the men, at about the same time the smoke hit the windstream. It was a living hell on that drop zone that morning. Want to see it? I see it about 10 times a day. It's not easy to forget. But it happened more than 25 years ago.
To me the real kicker was to learn in 2002 that the doctors that did the experiments at Edgewood were not all Army doctors. Linda Hunt, an investigative reporter for CNN, wrote a book titled Secret Agenda: Operation Paperclip. The book is about the Nazi's brought into the United States after WW2 by the OSS/CIA. Since President Truman told them they could NOT bring in any of the war criminals, they did some of their magic and cleaned up the paperwork on some of them - about 2000 in all.
The most famous is Werner Von Braun of NASA and Dr, Strughold of Air Force medicine. The ones that no one had heard of ended up all across America working at government installations. Her book shows that 9 of them worked at Edgewood Arsenal, helping to set up and conduct human experiments. They used chemical weapons and drugs on volunteers from the enlisted ranks of the Army and Air Force.
Want to talk about nightmares? If you are old enough to remember the name of Doctor Mengele, his work should frighten you and make you mad - that's just if you are normal. Find out you were used as a guinea pig in experiments run by the US, by some of Mengele’s coworkers whose prior resumes included using Jews and Gypsies in Nazi human experiments from 1939-1945. This causes nightmares I promise you.
I tried to get into the inpatient PTSD program at a VA hospital. They refused to admit me, claiming I was too ill due to my heart disease to be able to stay in the domiciliary. I take narcotics for the pain cause by a bad back, and they couldn't have a drug addict living in the hospital. It was too far for me to be able to walk to the dining room three times a day. I am in a power chair, usually I don't walk over 100 feet.
This story in the Washington Post got my attention. This soldier/veteran had high powered friends and she got into a very good program that only treats about 65 people annually. Why? Why are they only treating so few people, and why was she allowed to slide into a slot which must have a waiting list of hundreds of people?
The world of PTSD is a mess. I screwed up my life big time. I have been divorced 4 times - I made a lawyer happy and had 4 ex wives. At 43 (1999) I was totally broke, I had three kids that hated me. I was a lousy father, I was a drunk. I got 2 DUI's - luckily I didn't get hurt nor did I hurt anyone else. I quit driving by my choice, and haven't driven since. I quit drinking and finally sought mental health help in January 2003 when my new wife (#5) told me she was worried. She’d witnessed the sleepless nights, the nightmares, the cold sweats, punching out in my dreams, how obsessed I became about the nazi doctors after learning about the betrayal by the Army and my nation. I had to go thru my primary care doctor to get the referral, you couldn’t just walk in and say I want to see a shrink -maybe you can now, but not in January 2003. The VA has rules you know.
I am firmly convinced that if I had sought counseling 30 years ago when all these problems started and learned how to work through them, they would not be on constant replay in my head today. The VA only wants to deal with one of them, so we went with the attempted murders and robbery from Alaska in 1974. That doesn't stop the other issues (subscriptions) that keep affecting my life. They have tried medicating me into a zombie, but I objected. That is not life. I still have major sleep issues, I seldom leave my house. I shop at Walmart or Bilo at 2 am because there are very few people in the stores then. I can't remember the last time I went to a mall, a movie, a county fair, etc.
My advice to all new veterans, soldiers or their family members: if you see changes in your loved ones, print this out and let them read it. Ask them (and I ask them) to talk to a chaplain, go to a vet center off post or see a private counselor if they are worried about their careers. Frankly their lives are more important than their careers, you can find new jobs. After you totally screw your life up, you no longer have a career. Please seek help. I spent 15 years telling people to suck it up. I was a Staff Sergeant Infantry, Army Vietnam Era, Korea DMZ and Gulf War One. Sucking it up and driving on is not the answer. Talk to the professionals and have a chance on a life without PTSD.
PS I want to thank Barbara a fellow Kos member who has taken pity on my typing since the stroke, just before Memorial Day and is now editing my work before I post it, so it is more comprehensible. She has my eternal gratitude.
Crossposted at Daily Kos
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