PTSD and a Three-Year-Old Boy

“Why don’t you just get over it; that was a long time ago?” “Does that stuff still bother you?” “What’s the matter, you act like you’ve seen a ghost?” “Why are you so afraid of the dark sometimes?” Did you see dad jump when you slammed the door?” “I don’t know why you want to be alone so much.”” You never want to do anything exciting!” “Isn’t watching fireworks fun?”

These are all too familiar phrases spoken to combat veterans probably at some point in their lives. I was in Vietnam forty-two years ago and I was a combat medic for one year. For Korean War veterans, it has been nearly 60 years, and for some WWII veterans, it has been as long as 69 years.

Why have I chosen to write this now? It is because the war came to visit me once again last week and it made think of the millions of veterans who have suffered in the past and those who continue to suffer as I do now, usually in silence, without notice or comfort.

It was a Wednesday night Care Group gathering at our church and all the people were lining up at the tables to fill their plates with food before splitting up into groups to meet together. I usually sit and wait until the line goes down. I think my father used to do the same thing, but he was being polite; I hate standing in lines.

It was at this time while alone at my table when two hands suddenly covered my eyes and a loud voice yelled, “Hey!” It was Joe, a WWII veteran I had befriended before he had acquired Alzheimer’s disease. I mention the Alzheimer’s because as a WWII Navy veteran, Joe would have never thought of doing such a thing to another veteran. I jumped and he laughed and then he went on to sit at another table. I seemed to be ok at first, but then suddenly I found myself beginning to shake, feeling scared and nervous. Upon returning, my wife and others, not knowing what had happened, noticed I wasn’t acting right. I immediately asked them, “Where’s Rick?” Rick was a fellow Vietnam vet who was seated at our table and I needed him right then. “Rick is getting dessert or something,” I was told. I excused myself saying I had to go to the bathroom. “Are you all right?” my wife asked. I told her that I was and left.

In the bathroom, I continued shaking all over, experiencing cold chills. The feelings escalated as I began to sob and cry, holding myself upright on the divider between two urinals. I couldn’t stop myself. Once again, I found myself alone on a battlefield of memories that would not subside.

I thought I heard someone enter a stall behind me. I tried to be quiet but I was sniffling a lot, and still trembling. The war was enveloping and consuming me in a way I had not felt for some time. It was then I heard a little voice say, “Are you ok, mister?” I turned to see our associate pastor’s son, three-year old Micah, standing there, looking up at me. I told him I would be ok very soon and thanked him for asking. He asked, “Would you help me buckle my pants and tuck in my shirt?” I said, “Sure,” and knelt down to help him. He said, “Thank-you,” and left the bathroom. I thanked God right then for sending Micah in to help pull me back to 2010. Little Micah may never know what he did to help a struggling Vietnam veteran that evening.

How do I explain this? I can’t. If you have experienced combat for a long period of time, you know that things can happen suddenly, life-altering things. You are always on red-alert for an explosion, a gunshot, a human scream from a sniper bullet or a hidden mine. Nothing can compare to the adrenaline rush that is achieved during a rocket or mortar attack, not to mention a firefight. Nothing. There is not a carnival ride on this earth that can compare to the feeling you get when you realize a bullet just missed your head by a foot or by inches and realizing you may experience that multiple times while in combat. These experiences of war are inevitable and anticipated, day after day, week after week.

Please don’t try to convince a veteran that what you want him to do will be fun, and exciting, and the experience of a lifetime. Please accept it if he chooses not to be thrilled or to share in your excitement. A combat veteran doesn’t mean to offend you and he doesn’t mean to be a killjoy. He or she has had their share and more of excitement. It really does not matter to them.

This brings me to the subject of “fireworks.” The bright flashes of light, the sonic booms, the succession of “pops” that resemble an AK-47, all are grim reminders that take a combat veteran to a place he or she does not want to go. Flashes are reminders of flares, certain booms are reminders of rockets and mortars, and certain fireworks are a close resemblance to machine-gun fire. Yes, there are times when I can sit and enjoy fireworks, but there are other times when I cannot and I do not control when either will occur, but either way, most people will not even think to ask if I am doing ok.

It is very, very, difficult at times to keep thoughts and emotions inside, trying not to let people see you as weak and “living in the past.” For many veterans, the war was only yesterday and not a day goes by that you don’t think of it. I heard war once described as “long periods of boredom, interrupted by moments of sheer terror.” There is some truth to that, I suppose. As a combat medic, I am glad I was there to help when I could, keeping men alive long enough to get them out of harm’s way. But I will never forget the smell of battle and the smell of death. I will never glorify war, but I will glorify the men and women who have participated and especially those who gave their last full measure of devotion to save a fellow soldier or their unit.

I am hoping this article will help give expression to all those veterans who find it hard to express themselves as to why they feel and act the way they do at times. I also want this article to help enlighten those who have never experienced what many veterans have. There is no way under heaven that a combat veteran can tell you what being in combat is like. You just cannot do it, nor is there any experience that I know of that compares to it.

Let’s especially remember all the newly returning veterans from Iraq and Afghanistan, and the forgotten veterans of Desert Storm and other regions of the world where young men and women have experienced combat.

I pray for them all, and I pray for peace in their lives. I hope that this article may serve to give folks a better understanding and appreciation for what a multitude of men and women have been through. Days set aside for veterans are a good time to reflect and consider the sacrifices that have been made on our behalf.