A Safe Place for Veterans to Reintegrate After War

A Renewal Tour of Duty
by Paul Newell, GreenRecovery.org

The ”renewal tour of duty" is a duty to yourself. You have given your pound of flesh perceived as duty. Now you have a duty to yourself. That duty is to regroup with your energies your thoughts and your shattered soul. These are what I call personal recourses.

Example of one tour:  Jon

He’s traveled by train to meet me at Vancouver British Columbia. Said he was coming from Sioux City, Iowa.  Well I think it takes a braver person to want to confront their traumas before they can do any more damage. I’m not always sure what the Veteran looks like, so I’m standing holding a sign that say’s Green Recovery.org.

Jon hasn’t told me much about his trauma or about himself through our correspondence. Just that he was onboard the U.S.S. Cole when she was attacked and that had been the scene of his traumatic event. He did not want to talk about it…

The passengers started to come through the turnstyles. I’m always amazed at the many different shapes, sizes, and general manners of travelers. I could spot Jon right away. It’s the eyes. Dark, like coal with a permanent glaze. His body straight and rigid. Seemingly well-maintained and focused. He scans the waiting room and spots my sign looks at me and then starts to walk to me.

We both step up with hands extended. As we clasp hands and shake it’s always like meeting an old friend for me. "Hi Jon, I’m Paul. I’m very happy to see you, welcome to Canada and welcome to Green Recovery, son."

"Thank You Sir."

"I will be your driver and your personal companion. I will be here to assist you anyway I can."

"Yes Sir."

"You can call me Paul if you like."

"Yes Sir.  Paul."

"Well then, let’s get your kit and we can get this show on the road."

We both walked over to wait for the baggage. Which surprisingly came out promptly. He reached for a duffle bag off the trolley and we both turned and headed out of the building. "This is our transport vehicle you can stow your kit in the back of the van," I say.

After a few minutes we were on the road. Heading out to the #1 Highway which takes us deep into the interior of the Province of British Columbia, Canada. "So Jon you’ve seen the tour overview. Our first leg is 4.5 hrs; if you would like to listen to music feel free. If you need to stop for any reason let me know. Any reasonable request will be considered."

"Aye," was his reply.

Jon did not want to talk; I could see that clearly. As we traveled along the miles, Metropolitan in our wake. The concrete jungle and the webs of wires slowly turning to green such as trees, fields, rivers and streams that you could actually see. An hour and a half and we pull into our first pit stop. A town named Hope. This, by the way, is where the very first Rambo movie was shot. A quick stop and we are back on the road.

Jon hasn’t said a word but I can tell that the tour is already affecting him in a positive way. His posture is more relaxed he’s taking in all the surroundings, as we travel through what was once but a trail big enough for a couple of donkeys and a cart known as the Caribou Gold Rush Trail. The characterized signs along the road point this out.

"What was the gold rush?" Jon asks.

Well I’m just happy that he has spoken to me at this point and that’s progress. I like to talk so I replied, "I’ll be happy to tell you." So I go into a twenty minute story about all the miners coming from mostly America but from around the world, as well. How most of them gave up or staked every thing that they had to come out this way to make their claim to fortune. 150 years ago. Going into detail about the stiff competition and lawlessness at that time, the claim jumpers men who made it and the men who didn’t make it. 

I do give him a chance to silence me by letting him know that I can stop talking at any time. “The word is like a switch.” He nods and I carry on. As we wind our way across what is known as the Frasier Highway basically following the Frasier River tunneling through and steering around the eight to ten thousand foot-high mountains. The Sun magnificently silhouettes the solid, sheer granite faces of the mountain range as it passes before us.

Two more hours brings us to the satellite town of Alison Falls where we will grub-up and we will also decide if we will make camp out of town or take a room at the Inn. This is always left up to the Veteran’s discretion. "So Jon, are we going to spend the night in town?"

"We camp," he said.

"OK. Let’s pick up some steaks and get what you need and we will be on our way." So we set off again. This time it’s just a short twenty minutes and we will peel off the highway for a secondary gravel road. Over a cattle guard and up some climbing switch-back corners will bring us up about a thousand feet from where we just were in minutes to where the tall jack pine stand. We wind along the dusty old road for six miles or so. Until we come to a flat of a plateau it’s a wide open field of wild grass surrounded by tall pine and Douglas fir trees.

This is where we make camp. Jon practically had the camp set up complete in twenty minutes.

"I like this place," he said.

OK then now we are all set up. Our twenty foot dome, cots, bedding, chairs, table, cooking apparatus, food provisions. Did we miss some thing? I think not. This was near perfect, heaven’s gate.

Jon decided that he would gather some dead fall (wood) for our fire that night. I started to get busy setting up my kitchen– one of the only sacred things that I claim is my kitchen, so keep back Jack!!

Jon had made a couple of trips off in different directions building a small cache of fuel. At one point he looked like a big kid that had just found a pond full of frogs. With a smile on his face and flush color to his complexion.

"What’s up I asked?"

"Well just back over that little hill. I saw a mother fox and her three young."

"Wow! That’s great. Fox sightings can be rare; they are shy animals."

"Yes," he said, "when she saw me she quickly shooed her kits back into their den."

"How do you like your steak son?"

"Medium rare, please."

"OK, we’re going to marinate these and I’ll get our greens ready."

Jon sort of plunked himself down in a chair, and then just out of the blue he yelled out: "I FEEL THE ENERGY HERE!!!"

"How so, Jon?"

"I mean I can feel the positive energy here!"

"That’s great, Jon. So start recharging your batteries."

He gave me an odd look and then said, "Oh yeah, I read you."

He then leaned back in the chair with his hands clasped behind his head he closed his eyes and went  to sleep. I kid you not  I had never seen anybody go into a sleep like that. And I’m telling you this guy slept for two hours like that and didn’t even move. Then all of a sudden Jon literately sprang out of the chair and was standing at full attention, his arm and hand snapping to a salute. He started to speak fairly loudly.

"No, sir! I cannot comply with an order that is in 100% contradiction with our safety protocol. Yes, sir, I understand what court marshal means."

Of course by this time I had dropped what I was doing and went closer toward him.

"Jon, hey… it’s Paul. It’s OK, Jon. Look where we are."

As I looked at his face I could tell that he didn’t even realize what was happening.

"Jon, stand easy."

With that his eys rolled and his eyelids closed as he collapsed to the ground and it was all I could do to break his fall. As he slumped to the ground he just came to. He rolled to one side and softly spoke, "Help…help me."

"OK, Jon I’ll help you up." He got to his feet and I helped him into the dome and onto a cot. "OK Jon, you’re good now just rest here until you can shake off the grog."

"Thank you, Sir."

It was a really warm afternoon. As the sun was going to crest the ridges to the west. You could feel the cooler air start to move in and mix with the still warm. Having had everything ready to go I thought it best to get our culinary senses in gear.

"Hey, Jon, how are you making out? I’m going to get some dinner happening how does that sound?"

Marinated Prime Rib cuts, grilled five minutes per side, garlic roasted golden potatoes, steamed greens, fruit salad and a pot of Starbuck’s cowboy coffee. That’s what was on the menu for tonight. I put the coffee on right away knowing that the smell off coffee brewing on an open camp stove in an open field of wild grass is enough to bring most around to see what’s cooking.

Within a few minutes Jon was sitting up. "Is that coffee I smell?"

"Jon, when you’re ready can you get that fire going for us? I’ll pour us a cup of coffee."

"Sure thing, Paul."

While I busied myself with the rest of the cooking Jon slowly came around and started to tend to making a camp fire.

"I am sorry for that lapse there," he said. "That kind of happens now and then."

"There is no need to apologize. I understand, son."

"With all due respect, sir, I would like to explain."

"OK, Jon. That’s fine. How about we chow down first? You gotta be hungry by now."

"Yes, sir! I feel like I could eat a bear right now."

"Well that’s good but we’re not having bear tonight."

By this time Jon had successfully created fire. And I had almost successfully created a meal. The smell of the grilling prime rib was starting to make my mouth water. So with that we both fixed up our plates with the goods and pulled up our chairs close to the fire. The sun had set by now and the twilight was upon us. It was a peaceful evening with the sound of summer crickets and the numerous types of birds playing their nightly ritual tunes, some times I wish I could interpret their lingo.

As I looked up at Jon his silhouetted outline was cast by the fleeting light. I could see that his child-like face had a hardened and fatigued mask to it. I knew that that was brought on by the trauma that affected him. And I knew that he wanted to tell of his trauma.

Not to toot my own horn but I make a pretty appetizing meal. So there weren’t any spoken words throughout those minutes of consumption. After dinner and clean up I poured some fresh coffee and we again sat by the fire. Which by this time had a great bed of coals and was pouring out the heat like a coal-fired oven. Jon had spiked his coffee with a little Grand Marnier. (Green Recovery believes in a Veteran’s reasonable discretion when it comes to libations of that sort and being somewhat responsible for this person and Camp Renewal attendant I will decide at the time what reasonable discretion is.)

It was a very still and clear evening the stars where brilliantly dancing as if participating in some kind of country square dance in the sky. Just listening to the fire crackle and the night sounds can put a person into a trance.

"Paul, can I ask you why you do these things for Veterans?"

"Yes, Jon. I do this because I realized that it is my duty as a man to help where I can for the betterment of another. And this is how I have chosen to help. I believe that you have put it on the line for me and that I can offer no less to you."

"I would like to tell you what happened to me Paul."

"I am here to listen, son."

As he started to tell me about how he had been a 17 year-old young pup, care-free and open to the world in front of him I couldn’t help but feel that I had heard this story before. Well, that’s because I had heard this part before almost each time. As Jon went on telling of his experience onboard ship that day it was all I could do to absorb every word that was softly being spoken. The events were very disturbing to hear and the empathy that I felt was overwhelming. I listened as Jon became like a story-teller describing in detail what was happening at the time and how he was feeling at the time. Allowing Jon to speak freely and with detail allows him the chance to verbally release some of the traumatic effects.

As Jon comes to his conclusion I am already thinking of a more effective type of green recovery program for Jon.

To be continued….