August 06, 2009
Associated Press
SAVANNAH, Georgia - Tired of taking pills prescribed to suppress his pain, Zach Choate decided to wrestle head-on with the trauma that followed him home from Iraq. He began by using a razor to shred his Army uniform to bits.
"I'm hoping I come out of this a little more whole, a little bit more at peace," said Choate, who was a gunner in the 10th Mountain Division. "I'm not an anti-war, antimilitary person. This is just me fixing me."
He chopped his camouflage jacket into strips. He diced the American flag patch on its right shoulder, along with a prescription for sleeping pills he found in a pocket. Even the Purple Heart ribbon Choate earned after being wounded by a roadside bomb got torn into tiny threads.
The 25-year-old soldier from Cartersville joined a handful of Iraq veterans at a Savannah art studio last week to destroy uniforms that had become painful reminders of their combat experience, using them to create something new.
The young vets mixed the jigsaw pieces with water and beat them into pulp to make sheets of paper - blank canvasses on which they could write, paint or screen images to tell their personal war stories.
The Combat Paper Project, a Vermont-based collective of combat vets who became artists after leaving the military, has spent the past year holding coast-to-coast workshops aimed at teaching ex-service members to help themselves by recycling fatigues into artwork.
Drew Cameron, who became opposed to the Iraq war after serving in an Army artillery unit during the 2003 invasion, started the group after moving to Burlington, Vermont, where he learned paper making from a local artist while also becoming active with Iraq Veterans Against the War.
Cameron, 27, saw it as a way reach out to other Iraq veterans haunted by memories of friends slain in battle and men they had killed, wounded physically and psychologically by bomb and mortar explosions, and struggling to direct their own lives after years of being told what to do by the military.
"It's about taking the things you did and owning them, taking responsibility and expressing them," Cameron said. "The experience is not simple. For me to translate things that are hard to express, art is the perfect medium."
The three-day Savannah workshop, held at a cinderblock studio facing a row of Victorian homes, was more like a freewheeling reunion than a rigid class.
Young vets, many sporting beards and long hair, would often arrive after lunch, two hours after the studio doors opened, and start shredding uniforms into piles on tabletops or on the floor.
"I just want to cut this thing into a million pieces," said Jason Hurd, tearing the seams of the desert camouflage jacket he wore in Iraq in 2004 and 2005 with the Tennessee National Guard.
After spending 10 years in the military, the 29-year-old from Savannah said destroying his uniform was a way of proving that his life is now his own. He says he hasn't shaved or cut his hair since leaving the Guard two years ago.
"When you hold these strips in your hand, you think about all the times you ironed it and spit polished your boots - all that was something the Army made you do," Hurd said. "This is my uniform now. I'm not Army property anymore, and neither is it."
The vets dunked their uniform scraps into water swirling through a belt-driven machine that beat the mixture into pulp before being drained into 18-gallon (68-liter) tubs. The pulp was sifted through a screen into sheets of paper, then carefully smoothed and stuck onto the windows outside to dry in the summer heat.
The finished paper is thick, almost like cardboard, with an olive-gray color accented by fine threads of red, blue and purple from any awards and decorations the ex-soldiers add.
Art can often help veterans cope with traumatic war experiences that can be difficult to put into words, said Paula Howie, an art therapist who worked for 24 years with soldiers at Walter Reed Army Medical Center in Washington.
"It's interesting they're using something the person wore in combat and changing it into something else. I think that's key," said Howie, also a former president of the American Art Therapy Association. "It's the beginning of changing these negative memories or thoughts into something more positive and productive."
On the final day of their workshop, the veterans had turned their uniforms into more than 100 sheets of paper, many printed with silkscreen images in red and black: a figure of Buddha; a belt of machine-gun bullets; an image of Jesus with a quote from Matthew 5:39, "Whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other."
Nate Lewis, who deployed with an Army unit to Iraq in 2003, embedded his paper with Topps trading cards with photos of bombers, cruise missiles and aircraft carriers used during the first Gulf War. He remembered buying them as a boy in the early 1990s. Now he sees them as an example of children's toys and games that glamorize war.
"They would appeal to me a lot more than football cards," said Lewis, 26, of Barker, New York. "I would say a significant portion of my youth was spent outside playing the role (of a soldier). I had a lot of toy guns."
Threads from Choate's Purple Heart stood out boldly in his paper, most of which he planned to bind together as a journal.
On one page, he screened an image of barbed wire above the letters "OIF?" - the abbreviation for Operation Iraqi Freedom, a phrase he now questions.
Choate says his misgivings about the war have left him estranged from friends who stayed in the Army. But making art with like-minded vets, he said, reminds him he's not alone.
"Each one of these guys I meet along the way, they're like family now," he said. "It's already helping. I'm starting to get the good feeling."
Friday, August 7, 2009
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Love My Rifle Better Than You
(title stolen from a book title)
God help me...but there are some days I miss the life so much.
Sure...my experiences have caused me a lot of trouble over the years in terms of stress and worry...
...but I really miss the adrenaline...the camaraderie...the sweat, the pain, the discipline, the pride, the feel of a rifle in my hands....
I'll never have another life like it.
God help me...but there are some days I miss the life so much.
Sure...my experiences have caused me a lot of trouble over the years in terms of stress and worry...
...but I really miss the adrenaline...the camaraderie...the sweat, the pain, the discipline, the pride, the feel of a rifle in my hands....
I'll never have another life like it.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Inspiration
Disabled Vet Finishes London Marathon
By Richard Allen Greene,
CNN
LONDON, England (CNN) -- British soldier Phil Packer was told a year ago that he would never walk again, but on Saturday he finished the London Marathon.
He completed the race 13 days after it started, walking on crutches for two miles a day -- the most his doctor would allow -- in order to raise money for charity.
Flanked by cheering soldiers and supporters, an obviously emotional Packer had defied medical opinion after his lower spine was badly injured in the aftermath of a rocket attack on his base in Basra, Iraq, in February 2008.
The attack sent a vehicle rolling down a sand bank, striking Packer "head on" and dragging him under it.
The 36-year-old was left with no feeling or motor control in his legs, and no bladder or bowel control.
Packer was in hospital for more than four months and it was then he decided to complete three challenges to help raise $1.5 million for Help for Heroes, a British charity supporting wounded veterans.
In February he rowed the English Channel, and next month he plans to climb El Capitan -- one of America's iconic mountaineering sites -- a 3,000-foot vertical rock formation in California.
Packer, who was met at the marathon finish line by British Olympian Steve Redgrave, said that he was $558,000 short of his goal but he was hoping for more donations.
Dressed in a white charity T-shirt and desert fatigues, he was emotional.
"It's looking after our injured servicemen," he said. "There's a lot of people that can't do this, so this is for them."
Earlier this week he told CNN that he "wanted to be able to move on in life."
"I wanted to do something for other personnel who had been wounded.
"I don't want to be helped. I want to help other people. Not that I'm not grateful, but... you know... I really want to be able to help people."
He attributed being back on his feet to "fantastic medical support" from Britain's Ministry of Defense and National Health Service.
"So many improvements are being made" in medicine, he said. "It's an evolving process."
However, he did not know whether he would be able to walk without crutches.
"I gotta see how it goes. Take every improvement as it comes."
Packer is far from alone; the six-year war in Iraq has disabled thousands of people.
Britain's Ministry of Defense did not respond to a CNN question about how many service members had been permanently disabled in the war.
In the United States, the Congressional Research Service reported in March that 31,131 troops had been wounded in Iraq. That figure is for battlefield injuries; many more veterans were later diagnosed with some sort of traumatic brain injury, but it is difficult to determine an exact number because of how the data is kept.
It's not clear how many of the injuries are permanent because the Department of Veterans' Affairs does not classify some disabilities that way until 10 years after the injury, said Ryan Gallucci of AmVets, a veterans' service organization.
Statistics for Iraqis are even harder to come by. Estimates of the number of wounded range from tens of thousands to hundreds of thousands. Iraq's Ministry of Heath says one in four wounded Iraqis have lost at least one limb.
Britain's Prince Charles is among those who have expressed support for Packer.
"You are, if I may say so, a credit to the Royal Military Police and to the British Army as a whole," the heir to the British throne wrote in a letter posted on Packer's Web site.
Packer is still on active duty and intends to remain so.
"I've still got a career in the armed forces. I'm going to go back to it."
He has 16 years of service under his belt, including time as an enlisted man before he went to officer training school and is, he noted with a rueful laugh, 20 years from retirement.
He's been asked to be an ambassador for Prince Charles' charity, the Prince's Trust, which focuses on helping young people, in addition to his life in what he calls "the disability community."
After his two-week effort, Packer was asked whether he would be relaxing in a warm bath.
No, he said, "I'm going to have a drink." And with that, the army major lifted a shot glass and toasted his supporters.
By Richard Allen Greene,
CNN
LONDON, England (CNN) -- British soldier Phil Packer was told a year ago that he would never walk again, but on Saturday he finished the London Marathon.
He completed the race 13 days after it started, walking on crutches for two miles a day -- the most his doctor would allow -- in order to raise money for charity.
Flanked by cheering soldiers and supporters, an obviously emotional Packer had defied medical opinion after his lower spine was badly injured in the aftermath of a rocket attack on his base in Basra, Iraq, in February 2008.
The attack sent a vehicle rolling down a sand bank, striking Packer "head on" and dragging him under it.
The 36-year-old was left with no feeling or motor control in his legs, and no bladder or bowel control.
Packer was in hospital for more than four months and it was then he decided to complete three challenges to help raise $1.5 million for Help for Heroes, a British charity supporting wounded veterans.
In February he rowed the English Channel, and next month he plans to climb El Capitan -- one of America's iconic mountaineering sites -- a 3,000-foot vertical rock formation in California.
Packer, who was met at the marathon finish line by British Olympian Steve Redgrave, said that he was $558,000 short of his goal but he was hoping for more donations.
Dressed in a white charity T-shirt and desert fatigues, he was emotional.
"It's looking after our injured servicemen," he said. "There's a lot of people that can't do this, so this is for them."
Earlier this week he told CNN that he "wanted to be able to move on in life."
"I wanted to do something for other personnel who had been wounded.
"I don't want to be helped. I want to help other people. Not that I'm not grateful, but... you know... I really want to be able to help people."
He attributed being back on his feet to "fantastic medical support" from Britain's Ministry of Defense and National Health Service.
"So many improvements are being made" in medicine, he said. "It's an evolving process."
However, he did not know whether he would be able to walk without crutches.
"I gotta see how it goes. Take every improvement as it comes."
Packer is far from alone; the six-year war in Iraq has disabled thousands of people.
Britain's Ministry of Defense did not respond to a CNN question about how many service members had been permanently disabled in the war.
In the United States, the Congressional Research Service reported in March that 31,131 troops had been wounded in Iraq. That figure is for battlefield injuries; many more veterans were later diagnosed with some sort of traumatic brain injury, but it is difficult to determine an exact number because of how the data is kept.
It's not clear how many of the injuries are permanent because the Department of Veterans' Affairs does not classify some disabilities that way until 10 years after the injury, said Ryan Gallucci of AmVets, a veterans' service organization.
Statistics for Iraqis are even harder to come by. Estimates of the number of wounded range from tens of thousands to hundreds of thousands. Iraq's Ministry of Heath says one in four wounded Iraqis have lost at least one limb.
Britain's Prince Charles is among those who have expressed support for Packer.
"You are, if I may say so, a credit to the Royal Military Police and to the British Army as a whole," the heir to the British throne wrote in a letter posted on Packer's Web site.
Packer is still on active duty and intends to remain so.
"I've still got a career in the armed forces. I'm going to go back to it."
He has 16 years of service under his belt, including time as an enlisted man before he went to officer training school and is, he noted with a rueful laugh, 20 years from retirement.
He's been asked to be an ambassador for Prince Charles' charity, the Prince's Trust, which focuses on helping young people, in addition to his life in what he calls "the disability community."
After his two-week effort, Packer was asked whether he would be relaxing in a warm bath.
No, he said, "I'm going to have a drink." And with that, the army major lifted a shot glass and toasted his supporters.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
This List Gets Longer Every Year
Staff Sergeant Summerall, KIA 26 Feb 91
Specialist Alaniz, KIA 26 Feb 91
Sergeant Londono, KIA 23 March 04
And Cutty...Cutty I only knew for about two months when I was on temporary duty at Fort Bragg but he had a big influence on me. He was from New Orleans and was more than willing to talk about his hometown when I told him I'd always wanted to visit. He would go on and tell me all about the city and its people, the sights, the fun, the music, the beauty and debauchery. After our talks, I'd see him in the office bopping his head or drumming lightly on his desk as he worked...and I knew right then he was caught up in the music and memories of The Big Easy. It was because of him I eventually visited New Orleans, fell in love with it and moved there. Thanks, Cutty...right at the end of one adventure you got me started on the path to another.
"Vivos voco, mortuos plango"....an inscription I saw on a church bell in Italy.
Translates to: I call the living, I mourn the dead.
Specialist Alaniz, KIA 26 Feb 91
Sergeant Londono, KIA 23 March 04
And Cutty...Cutty I only knew for about two months when I was on temporary duty at Fort Bragg but he had a big influence on me. He was from New Orleans and was more than willing to talk about his hometown when I told him I'd always wanted to visit. He would go on and tell me all about the city and its people, the sights, the fun, the music, the beauty and debauchery. After our talks, I'd see him in the office bopping his head or drumming lightly on his desk as he worked...and I knew right then he was caught up in the music and memories of The Big Easy. It was because of him I eventually visited New Orleans, fell in love with it and moved there. Thanks, Cutty...right at the end of one adventure you got me started on the path to another.
"Vivos voco, mortuos plango"....an inscription I saw on a church bell in Italy.
Translates to: I call the living, I mourn the dead.
Monday, November 10, 2008
More From IAVA
Dear President-elect Obama,
Congratulations on your victory. Both you and Senator McCain are true patriots, and you each ran a remarkable campaign. While I'm sure you're relieved that the election is over, now is the time to bring all Americans together, get to work, and focus on the next four years of governing.
As the nation's leading new veterans organization, it is crucial to IAVA that you keep Iraq and Afghanistan veterans high on your list of priorities. With aggressive action, you can send a strong message to America that as Commander-in-Chief, you are committed to truly honoring our nation's newest generation of heroes. Here's how we think you can best accomplish that:
1. Convene an urgent Presidential Summit of Leading Veterans
As you consider nominations for appointed positions within the VA, you should convene a leadership summit of leading veterans' groups from across the country, including IAVA. Candidates for appointed jobs within the VA should have a proven track record of innovation and reform, and should be ready to address the urgent needs of new veterans.
2. Advance-fund VA Healthcare
Year after year, the VA budget is passed late, forcing hundreds of veterans' hospitals and clinics to ration care. IAVA believes that veterans' health care should be funded one year in advance and we ask you to present to Congress an advance-funded VA budget that continues to match the Independent Budget recommendations made by leading Veterans Service Organizations.
3. Implement GI Bill Transferability
While the new GI Bill was passed several months ago, the Department of Defense has yet to release guidelines for the transferability of GI Bill benefits from servicemembers to their spouses or children. You should direct the Secretary of Defense to issue the appropriate guidelines, so that GI Bill transferability can be implemented by August 2009.
4. Issue a National Call for Mental Health Professionals
The military and the VA need innovative strategies to recruit and retain more mental health professionals to combat the high rates of PTSD and major depression among returning troops. You should issue a national call, urging mental health professionals nationwide to serve our troops and veterans. Those who answer the call should receive incentives and benefits for serving this patriotic cause.
With more troops returning home from the wars everyday, you'll need to hit the ground running. IAVA is committed to serving as a resource for you and your administration going forward.
We look forward to working with you and the new Congress to support Iraq and Afghanistan veterans and their families.
Sincerely,
Paul Rieckhoff
Iraq VeteranExecutive Director and Founder
Iraq and Afghanistan Veterans of America
Congratulations on your victory. Both you and Senator McCain are true patriots, and you each ran a remarkable campaign. While I'm sure you're relieved that the election is over, now is the time to bring all Americans together, get to work, and focus on the next four years of governing.
As the nation's leading new veterans organization, it is crucial to IAVA that you keep Iraq and Afghanistan veterans high on your list of priorities. With aggressive action, you can send a strong message to America that as Commander-in-Chief, you are committed to truly honoring our nation's newest generation of heroes. Here's how we think you can best accomplish that:
1. Convene an urgent Presidential Summit of Leading Veterans
As you consider nominations for appointed positions within the VA, you should convene a leadership summit of leading veterans' groups from across the country, including IAVA. Candidates for appointed jobs within the VA should have a proven track record of innovation and reform, and should be ready to address the urgent needs of new veterans.
2. Advance-fund VA Healthcare
Year after year, the VA budget is passed late, forcing hundreds of veterans' hospitals and clinics to ration care. IAVA believes that veterans' health care should be funded one year in advance and we ask you to present to Congress an advance-funded VA budget that continues to match the Independent Budget recommendations made by leading Veterans Service Organizations.
3. Implement GI Bill Transferability
While the new GI Bill was passed several months ago, the Department of Defense has yet to release guidelines for the transferability of GI Bill benefits from servicemembers to their spouses or children. You should direct the Secretary of Defense to issue the appropriate guidelines, so that GI Bill transferability can be implemented by August 2009.
4. Issue a National Call for Mental Health Professionals
The military and the VA need innovative strategies to recruit and retain more mental health professionals to combat the high rates of PTSD and major depression among returning troops. You should issue a national call, urging mental health professionals nationwide to serve our troops and veterans. Those who answer the call should receive incentives and benefits for serving this patriotic cause.
With more troops returning home from the wars everyday, you'll need to hit the ground running. IAVA is committed to serving as a resource for you and your administration going forward.
We look forward to working with you and the new Congress to support Iraq and Afghanistan veterans and their families.
Sincerely,
Paul Rieckhoff
Iraq VeteranExecutive Director and Founder
Iraq and Afghanistan Veterans of America
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Another Alert Type Thingie
Some Americans watching tonight's Presidential debate may not have the opportunity to cast a vote for their candidate: troops and veterans from Ohio.
Right now, a legal fight in Ohio threatens the right of servicemembers and veterans to cast their votes with absentee ballots. IAVA has filed a brief asking the Ohio Supreme Court to protect the voting rights of all citizens, and we need your support.
Add your name to IAVA's petition, demanding that the state of Ohio count all the votes of servicemembers and vets.
As the law stands now, citizens must be registered to vote for 30 days before the election, which allows voters to register and submit an absentee ballot at the same time, as long as it happens 30 days before the election. A lawsuit brought against the Ohio Secretary of State is trying to prevent the two actions from happening at the same time. If the law is changed, thousands of veterans and active duty troops could be disenfranchised.
Our troops serving overseas could be denied the very freedoms they are fighting so hard to defend. We hope the court in Ohio rejects this last minute, politically-motivated ploy that could complicate the voting process for our veterans and deployed soldiers.
Sign IAVA's petition demanding that the state of Ohio deny this challenge to the law.
This is not a partisan matter. Regardless of who they cast their ballots for, thousands of servicemen and women could find their votes thrown out. We owe these and all servicemembers an absentee voting process that is fair, predictable, and clear.
Help fight this threat to our democracy.
Thank you for standing with us.
Sincerely,
Paul Rieckhoff
Iraq Veteran
Executive DirectorIraq and Afghanistan Veterans of America
Right now, a legal fight in Ohio threatens the right of servicemembers and veterans to cast their votes with absentee ballots. IAVA has filed a brief asking the Ohio Supreme Court to protect the voting rights of all citizens, and we need your support.
Add your name to IAVA's petition, demanding that the state of Ohio count all the votes of servicemembers and vets.
As the law stands now, citizens must be registered to vote for 30 days before the election, which allows voters to register and submit an absentee ballot at the same time, as long as it happens 30 days before the election. A lawsuit brought against the Ohio Secretary of State is trying to prevent the two actions from happening at the same time. If the law is changed, thousands of veterans and active duty troops could be disenfranchised.
Our troops serving overseas could be denied the very freedoms they are fighting so hard to defend. We hope the court in Ohio rejects this last minute, politically-motivated ploy that could complicate the voting process for our veterans and deployed soldiers.
Sign IAVA's petition demanding that the state of Ohio deny this challenge to the law.
This is not a partisan matter. Regardless of who they cast their ballots for, thousands of servicemen and women could find their votes thrown out. We owe these and all servicemembers an absentee voting process that is fair, predictable, and clear.
Help fight this threat to our democracy.
Thank you for standing with us.
Sincerely,
Paul Rieckhoff
Iraq Veteran
Executive DirectorIraq and Afghanistan Veterans of America
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Prescient
This letter is from the anthology War Letters by Andrew Carroll. The author, Bill Hunt, was writing to the former career soldier David Hackworth who became a widely published author and columnist and a military affairs analyst and was known for saying the hard things, the tough love things...the things people might not want to hear about their own military and foreign policy.
It was written from one Vietnam vet to another during the height of the buildup to Operation Desert Storm.
I think a lot of what it says resonates loud as hell today.
==========================================
And in the end all wars are about dying. When the dying is about honor it is somehow OK, even to, and maybe especially to, the dead. Only the folks back home have the luxury of viewing war as about living.
As a war vet, I can’t ask a young soldier to go into combat unless the mission is something I personally feel equals the value of my own life.
So, where’s the honor? Well, if the President asked me to walk point all the way to Baghdad in order to secure the release of a single hostage, I’d say yes……If the President convinced me that Iraq was about to attack Israel and I needed to be the sacrificial lamb, I’d say maybe. But I would want a lot more. Israel has been a real problem lately. My personal blood would require one heck of an explanation……Oil?
No, Mr. President. This ultimate value of crude on the world market will never go higher than about $60 a barrel. That’s because alternative fuels can be produced more cheaply than that, and we the people, if not the President, are starting to understand that. We really need a national energy policy that requires energy independence. We’ve needed it for years. I’m not going to die for oil.
To liberate Kuwait? Well, frankly, Mr. President, is Kuwait some flowering democracy? Can you get the Emir to go on TV and talk about the new constitution that provides rights for all citizens? Perhaps the Emir will call for an election after I liberate the place? If I die in Kuwait, will they stop calling me an infidel? An do you really expect meto go in with Syria on my flank?
Then, shall we just protect Saudi Arabia? Well, yes, Mr. President, with serious reservations. I think I could be friends with the people of Saudi Arabia, in time. But our presence may very well bring on a smoldering unrest, and even civil war. If that happens, Mr. President, you’ve got to promise me one thing. Promise me we’ll get the hell out. The one thing I leanred in Vietnam is that you don’t mess around in someone else’s civilwar. Not unless you’re nuts.
As an American citizen I feel pretty helpless in the face of foreign policy that I know is short sighted or patently wrong. Nothing I’ve said here will change what happens in the Middle East one iota. It’s all happening too fast.
Bill Hunt, November 28, 1990,
from War Letters, p. 445-446.
It was written from one Vietnam vet to another during the height of the buildup to Operation Desert Storm.
I think a lot of what it says resonates loud as hell today.
==========================================
And in the end all wars are about dying. When the dying is about honor it is somehow OK, even to, and maybe especially to, the dead. Only the folks back home have the luxury of viewing war as about living.
As a war vet, I can’t ask a young soldier to go into combat unless the mission is something I personally feel equals the value of my own life.
So, where’s the honor? Well, if the President asked me to walk point all the way to Baghdad in order to secure the release of a single hostage, I’d say yes……If the President convinced me that Iraq was about to attack Israel and I needed to be the sacrificial lamb, I’d say maybe. But I would want a lot more. Israel has been a real problem lately. My personal blood would require one heck of an explanation……Oil?
No, Mr. President. This ultimate value of crude on the world market will never go higher than about $60 a barrel. That’s because alternative fuels can be produced more cheaply than that, and we the people, if not the President, are starting to understand that. We really need a national energy policy that requires energy independence. We’ve needed it for years. I’m not going to die for oil.
To liberate Kuwait? Well, frankly, Mr. President, is Kuwait some flowering democracy? Can you get the Emir to go on TV and talk about the new constitution that provides rights for all citizens? Perhaps the Emir will call for an election after I liberate the place? If I die in Kuwait, will they stop calling me an infidel? An do you really expect meto go in with Syria on my flank?
Then, shall we just protect Saudi Arabia? Well, yes, Mr. President, with serious reservations. I think I could be friends with the people of Saudi Arabia, in time. But our presence may very well bring on a smoldering unrest, and even civil war. If that happens, Mr. President, you’ve got to promise me one thing. Promise me we’ll get the hell out. The one thing I leanred in Vietnam is that you don’t mess around in someone else’s civilwar. Not unless you’re nuts.
As an American citizen I feel pretty helpless in the face of foreign policy that I know is short sighted or patently wrong. Nothing I’ve said here will change what happens in the Middle East one iota. It’s all happening too fast.
Bill Hunt, November 28, 1990,
from War Letters, p. 445-446.
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Swell
Some dude on here linked this blog to his blog. His blog is a collection of stories of and sources related to jacking off.
I was wondering why the number of visitors skyrocketed this month. In a moment of hubris I thought it might have something to do with my writing.
Nope. This dude linked to my story of how we kept from going nuts in Saudi Arabia by masturbating as much as possible. Combat Jacks help keep a young man sane in an insane place.
Now I have a bunch of people popping in here not to read about the effects of war on young men's bodies and minds...but because they want a good meat-beating tale.
Fucking wankers.
I was wondering why the number of visitors skyrocketed this month. In a moment of hubris I thought it might have something to do with my writing.
Nope. This dude linked to my story of how we kept from going nuts in Saudi Arabia by masturbating as much as possible. Combat Jacks help keep a young man sane in an insane place.
Now I have a bunch of people popping in here not to read about the effects of war on young men's bodies and minds...but because they want a good meat-beating tale.
Fucking wankers.
Monday, March 31, 2008
The Ghost of Matt Maupin
You are finally coming home...the corporeal caught up with the spirit.
I wonder how many people even knew your name. People aren't paying attention anymore, Matt. I'm sorry for that. They didn't know you were missing...
(CNN) -- After nearly four years of hoping, waiting and praying, an Ohio family learned Sunday their missing son died in Iraq.
"It hurts -- it really hurts. You go through four years of hope," said Carolyn Maupin, whose son, Staff Sgt. Keith Matthew Maupin, was captured by insurgents in April 2004.
"It's like a letdown to me. I'm trying to get through that right now."
His father, Keith Maupin, said military officials informed the family Sunday afternoon that the remains of the 24-year-old Army reservist had been identified.
"Every parent knows the possibility exists that they may have to face the death of their child when they volunteer to go to war," he said. "However, those who are fortunate make peace with that and support their soldier, because they enlisted at their own free will."
A Defense Department official also confirmed the identification, saying Maupin's remains were found last week but DNA results just came in.
Still missing:
Pvt. Byron W. Fouty and Spc. Alex R. Jimenez have been missing since their military convoy was raided west of Mahmoudiya May 12.
Spc. Ahmed K. Altaie disappeared October 23, 2006, and his status was changed to "missing-captured" nearly two months later.
I wonder how many people even knew your name. People aren't paying attention anymore, Matt. I'm sorry for that. They didn't know you were missing...
(CNN) -- After nearly four years of hoping, waiting and praying, an Ohio family learned Sunday their missing son died in Iraq.
"It hurts -- it really hurts. You go through four years of hope," said Carolyn Maupin, whose son, Staff Sgt. Keith Matthew Maupin, was captured by insurgents in April 2004.
"It's like a letdown to me. I'm trying to get through that right now."
His father, Keith Maupin, said military officials informed the family Sunday afternoon that the remains of the 24-year-old Army reservist had been identified.
"Every parent knows the possibility exists that they may have to face the death of their child when they volunteer to go to war," he said. "However, those who are fortunate make peace with that and support their soldier, because they enlisted at their own free will."
A Defense Department official also confirmed the identification, saying Maupin's remains were found last week but DNA results just came in.
Still missing:
Pvt. Byron W. Fouty and Spc. Alex R. Jimenez have been missing since their military convoy was raided west of Mahmoudiya May 12.
Spc. Ahmed K. Altaie disappeared October 23, 2006, and his status was changed to "missing-captured" nearly two months later.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Things Keep Getting Better and Better
As if I didn't have enough to worry about....
Chemicals Linked to Gulf War Illness
Associated Press March 11, 2008
WASHINGTON - Increasing evidence ties pesticides and other chemicals to some, not all, of the Gulf War illnesses that afflict thousands of veterans of the 1991 war, says an analysis published Monday.
Nearly 30 percent of troops who took part in the brief war have reported symptoms that include fatigue, memory loss, pain and difficulty sleeping. Citing the variety of symptoms, the Institute of Medicine in 2006 declared there is no single Gulf War syndrome, although troops who served in the Persian Gulf were sicker than those who didn't.
Multiple chemical exposures have long been chief suspects. So Dr. Beatrice Golomb of the University of California, San Diego, reviewed 115 studies of neurological symptoms and veterans' exposure to three related chemicals: the anti-nerve gas pyridostigmine bromide, or PB, given to troops at the time; pesticides used aggressively to control sand flies; and the nerve gas sarin.
Those chemicals belong to a family known as acetylcholinesterase inhibitors that work the same way in the body, she wrote Monday in Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences.
Among the evidence Golomb cites: Veterans who are genetically less able to clear this type of chemical from their bodies had a higher chance of suffering symptoms, which mirror problems reported by pesticide-exposed agriculture workers.
Chemicals Linked to Gulf War Illness
Associated Press March 11, 2008
WASHINGTON - Increasing evidence ties pesticides and other chemicals to some, not all, of the Gulf War illnesses that afflict thousands of veterans of the 1991 war, says an analysis published Monday.
Nearly 30 percent of troops who took part in the brief war have reported symptoms that include fatigue, memory loss, pain and difficulty sleeping. Citing the variety of symptoms, the Institute of Medicine in 2006 declared there is no single Gulf War syndrome, although troops who served in the Persian Gulf were sicker than those who didn't.
Multiple chemical exposures have long been chief suspects. So Dr. Beatrice Golomb of the University of California, San Diego, reviewed 115 studies of neurological symptoms and veterans' exposure to three related chemicals: the anti-nerve gas pyridostigmine bromide, or PB, given to troops at the time; pesticides used aggressively to control sand flies; and the nerve gas sarin.
Those chemicals belong to a family known as acetylcholinesterase inhibitors that work the same way in the body, she wrote Monday in Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences.
Among the evidence Golomb cites: Veterans who are genetically less able to clear this type of chemical from their bodies had a higher chance of suffering symptoms, which mirror problems reported by pesticide-exposed agriculture workers.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
The Odd Amusing Anecdote
Every once in a while I do have amusing stories to share. They have no point....no complex message...no metaphorical meaning. They are just funny things that happened. When times are boring and bleak and dangerous...you have to find your humor where you can...
One of the least examined aspects of Desert Shield/Desert Storm, in this humble author's opinion, is the sexual health and well being of the more than 500,000 troops sitting in the sand.
Oh sure...there was the infamous "Love Boat"....the Navy ship on which an unusually high number of the female crew became pregnant during their deployment to the Gulf. But what about the lusts and desires of the very young, very virile kids away from wife, girlfriend or lover?
Friends, I'm talking about masturbation here.
Everyone does it. And with the median age of the young men in the Gulf at the time being 21 years old....they did a LOT of it.
But...where does one go to do it in private when living in extremely close quarters? Upon arrival in Saudi Arabia my unit lived in a warehouse. A wide open, metal hotbox filled with 800 guys. We lived on bunks spread 18 inches apart. Privacy was a quaint notion.
You can't start a Rub Out under those conditions. everyone would know as soon as you did...and you'd never get to finish for all the catcalls. It really fucks with the concentration.
So...where do you go? We were kept busy all day with lectures, exercise, training, more lectures, paperwork, heavy lifting work and all manner of busy work. Idle hands are the Devil's Work, you know? And no one could sneak off lest they miss an assignment. But there was one place where a guy has to go every day to be alone and no one questions it: the latrine.
Behind our warehouse accommodations there was a row of those plastic Port-0-Potties. This soon became the go-to place for the release of pent up tensions.
It was the secret-that-was-not-a-secret. Troopers heading off towards the latrine were automatically handed bits of secret porno stashes. The trading of pictures of girlfriends in sexual poses became a minor industry...like trading baseball cards. The then soon-to-be-satisfied would stalk off with a determined gait...slipping the imagination aids into pockets.
Some enterprising smart-asses began to bestow names on individual stalls in magic marker: The Whack Shack, The Meat Shoppe...and my own contribution...The One Stop Baloney Bop. Juvenile? Sure. Funny? At the time...yeah.
At times...when there was a full house...things tended to get out of hand (no pun intended, I think). The level of audible groans would rise...echoing from inside the plastic chambers. I once noted to a friend that it sounded like a casualty ward some days with all the moaning.
One day while waiting in line for our turn in the shitters...my friend Ty and I noticed a young officer from the battalion staff heading our way as he made his way to the officer's latrine (a swanky affair compared to our port-o-sans). As he passed his face took on a look of consternation over the level of moaning and groaning seeping through the vents above the doors. And the poor, clueless young man stopped...quite perplexed.
He sauntered towards us...we saluted...and as Ty was the senior rank...the officer addressed him.
"What's happening here?
Which was punctuated by a very loud moan from the nearest stall and a stage whispered "Oh fuuuuuuck."
Ty, in his most serious voice replied "We believe it's food poisoning, Sir." And shaking his head somberly "Very, bad, Sir, very bad. Lots of diarrhea." And explained that we were unit medics and were looking after them.
"Will they be OK?
"Yes, Sir. They'll be just fine. They just need to get the poison out."
As Ty is talking my face proceeded to get redder and redder. I'm not very good at holding in laughter. But, thank Christ, I managed to this time.
The officer, a fine young man concerned for the enlisted troops, nodded soberly.
"Very good then." And stalked off on his own mission.
As he passed the stalls...a red-faced, sweaty kid came out wearing a sloppy grin. The officer stopped and said he hopes he feels better. The kid, saluting, replied cheerily "Oh, I feel just great, Sir!"
I stepped quietly behind Ty and buried my face in his back to smother my laughter.
Well...there you have it. I guess it's a You Had to Be There moment. I'm glad I was.
One of the least examined aspects of Desert Shield/Desert Storm, in this humble author's opinion, is the sexual health and well being of the more than 500,000 troops sitting in the sand.
Oh sure...there was the infamous "Love Boat"....the Navy ship on which an unusually high number of the female crew became pregnant during their deployment to the Gulf. But what about the lusts and desires of the very young, very virile kids away from wife, girlfriend or lover?
Friends, I'm talking about masturbation here.
Everyone does it. And with the median age of the young men in the Gulf at the time being 21 years old....they did a LOT of it.
But...where does one go to do it in private when living in extremely close quarters? Upon arrival in Saudi Arabia my unit lived in a warehouse. A wide open, metal hotbox filled with 800 guys. We lived on bunks spread 18 inches apart. Privacy was a quaint notion.
You can't start a Rub Out under those conditions. everyone would know as soon as you did...and you'd never get to finish for all the catcalls. It really fucks with the concentration.
So...where do you go? We were kept busy all day with lectures, exercise, training, more lectures, paperwork, heavy lifting work and all manner of busy work. Idle hands are the Devil's Work, you know? And no one could sneak off lest they miss an assignment. But there was one place where a guy has to go every day to be alone and no one questions it: the latrine.
Behind our warehouse accommodations there was a row of those plastic Port-0-Potties. This soon became the go-to place for the release of pent up tensions.
It was the secret-that-was-not-a-secret. Troopers heading off towards the latrine were automatically handed bits of secret porno stashes. The trading of pictures of girlfriends in sexual poses became a minor industry...like trading baseball cards. The then soon-to-be-satisfied would stalk off with a determined gait...slipping the imagination aids into pockets.
Some enterprising smart-asses began to bestow names on individual stalls in magic marker: The Whack Shack, The Meat Shoppe...and my own contribution...The One Stop Baloney Bop. Juvenile? Sure. Funny? At the time...yeah.
At times...when there was a full house...things tended to get out of hand (no pun intended, I think). The level of audible groans would rise...echoing from inside the plastic chambers. I once noted to a friend that it sounded like a casualty ward some days with all the moaning.
One day while waiting in line for our turn in the shitters...my friend Ty and I noticed a young officer from the battalion staff heading our way as he made his way to the officer's latrine (a swanky affair compared to our port-o-sans). As he passed his face took on a look of consternation over the level of moaning and groaning seeping through the vents above the doors. And the poor, clueless young man stopped...quite perplexed.
He sauntered towards us...we saluted...and as Ty was the senior rank...the officer addressed him.
"What's happening here?
Which was punctuated by a very loud moan from the nearest stall and a stage whispered "Oh fuuuuuuck."
Ty, in his most serious voice replied "We believe it's food poisoning, Sir." And shaking his head somberly "Very, bad, Sir, very bad. Lots of diarrhea." And explained that we were unit medics and were looking after them.
"Will they be OK?
"Yes, Sir. They'll be just fine. They just need to get the poison out."
As Ty is talking my face proceeded to get redder and redder. I'm not very good at holding in laughter. But, thank Christ, I managed to this time.
The officer, a fine young man concerned for the enlisted troops, nodded soberly.
"Very good then." And stalked off on his own mission.
As he passed the stalls...a red-faced, sweaty kid came out wearing a sloppy grin. The officer stopped and said he hopes he feels better. The kid, saluting, replied cheerily "Oh, I feel just great, Sir!"
I stepped quietly behind Ty and buried my face in his back to smother my laughter.
Well...there you have it. I guess it's a You Had to Be There moment. I'm glad I was.
Burn
Sometimes when I go to the beach in summer
I sit on my towel and strip off my shirt
and I close my eyes.
And I feel the sun hot on my back.
And I let myself burn.
I feel the heat rise from the sand around me
the scent so familiar
I rest my forehead on my arms and everything around me slips to white noise.
the sweat beads and runs on back and my neck and my arms
and I burn.
And I'm right back there.
I sit on my towel and strip off my shirt
and I close my eyes.
And I feel the sun hot on my back.
And I let myself burn.
I feel the heat rise from the sand around me
the scent so familiar
I rest my forehead on my arms and everything around me slips to white noise.
the sweat beads and runs on back and my neck and my arms
and I burn.
And I'm right back there.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Oasis
Every once in a while there were almost sublime moments of beauty.
They are the moments, when I'm flailing about in my mind trying to make sense of it all, to which I can grasp to keep myself grounded.
They were few and far between...but their very rarity makes them all the more precious.
There was the soccer game I watched...played by children in a refugee camp at the Saudi/Iraq border. The fact that the kids had energy enough to play meant we were doing our jobs effectively and keeping them alive and fed well. The fact they wanted to play at all meant they were getting past the trauma.
The tomato plant growing through the asphalt outside the warehouse we lived in...growing against all odds where no plant had a right to be. I made sure to check it every morning on my way to the latrine...willing it on to grow...to live. I sometimes wonder if it continued to flourish after we moved away and into the deep desert.
Watching the goofy looking new kid, who joined us after we had already deployed, quietly pray at night. The deep solemnity of his visage was enough to get us to stop busting his balls for a little while.
The Bedouin we passed while driving in a convoy one day. People in robes and headwraps riding camels with all their possessions strapped on to the animals. It was something straight out of Lawrence of Arabia. It was what I thought in my insular way what the desert should look like. It was so alien...so foreign to me that I watched their procession with the giddy awe usually reserved for children at the zoo.
The day one of the various homeless dogs... who roamed the camp and were adopted by various units...had puppies and for days lines formed as everyone wanted to spend time just watching the puppies sleep or feed or to bring blankets and towels and other things to wrap this new family in.
Watching my friend lay on his bunk and read a letter from his girlfriend. He was 19 and crazily, enthusiastically in love in only the way teenagers new to the experience ever seem to be. He would sack out, one his side with one arm thrown over his head and read and reread every letter. She'd spray perfume on them...and he'd pass them around for us to smell. Of course, the letters took so long to get from the USA to Saudi Arabia that the scent had long dissipated. But he'd swear it was still there as he lay down, smiling dreamily, to read them again. Really...he was just remembering the way she smelled.
The day I saw a baby being born for the first time. One of the few happy moments from the second, sad part of our mission: spending eight months traveling from refugee camp to refugee camp along the Saudi/Iraq/Kuwait border region providing medical care and food assistance until people could be resettled or returned home. Having seen footage of birth during training..and schooled in basic birth assistance...I thought I was prepared. I was not. The emotion that swept over everyone involved...mother, father, we medics...was unexpected. I guess after all the death, the taking of life...the presence of new life brought into the world stood out starkly. It felt good. And it was beautiful.
These memories I treasure.
They are the moments, when I'm flailing about in my mind trying to make sense of it all, to which I can grasp to keep myself grounded.
They were few and far between...but their very rarity makes them all the more precious.
There was the soccer game I watched...played by children in a refugee camp at the Saudi/Iraq border. The fact that the kids had energy enough to play meant we were doing our jobs effectively and keeping them alive and fed well. The fact they wanted to play at all meant they were getting past the trauma.
The tomato plant growing through the asphalt outside the warehouse we lived in...growing against all odds where no plant had a right to be. I made sure to check it every morning on my way to the latrine...willing it on to grow...to live. I sometimes wonder if it continued to flourish after we moved away and into the deep desert.
Watching the goofy looking new kid, who joined us after we had already deployed, quietly pray at night. The deep solemnity of his visage was enough to get us to stop busting his balls for a little while.
The Bedouin we passed while driving in a convoy one day. People in robes and headwraps riding camels with all their possessions strapped on to the animals. It was something straight out of Lawrence of Arabia. It was what I thought in my insular way what the desert should look like. It was so alien...so foreign to me that I watched their procession with the giddy awe usually reserved for children at the zoo.
The day one of the various homeless dogs... who roamed the camp and were adopted by various units...had puppies and for days lines formed as everyone wanted to spend time just watching the puppies sleep or feed or to bring blankets and towels and other things to wrap this new family in.
Watching my friend lay on his bunk and read a letter from his girlfriend. He was 19 and crazily, enthusiastically in love in only the way teenagers new to the experience ever seem to be. He would sack out, one his side with one arm thrown over his head and read and reread every letter. She'd spray perfume on them...and he'd pass them around for us to smell. Of course, the letters took so long to get from the USA to Saudi Arabia that the scent had long dissipated. But he'd swear it was still there as he lay down, smiling dreamily, to read them again. Really...he was just remembering the way she smelled.
The day I saw a baby being born for the first time. One of the few happy moments from the second, sad part of our mission: spending eight months traveling from refugee camp to refugee camp along the Saudi/Iraq/Kuwait border region providing medical care and food assistance until people could be resettled or returned home. Having seen footage of birth during training..and schooled in basic birth assistance...I thought I was prepared. I was not. The emotion that swept over everyone involved...mother, father, we medics...was unexpected. I guess after all the death, the taking of life...the presence of new life brought into the world stood out starkly. It felt good. And it was beautiful.
These memories I treasure.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
A Few Retreads
I moved a few stories concerning my work with a wounded Iraq vet to this blog from my other.
They belong here.
They belong here.
Repost 2
The Coarse Humor of Soldiers
When he first came to us...I was reluctant to take him on. My boss specifically wanted to assign him to me even though I had a full caseload and wasn't next in line for new client arrivals. He and I have a similar background so my boss thought the connection would be beneficial...the theory being he'd bond with me and I'd know how to handle him better than anyone else on staff because I'm the only employee with anything close to the same experiences.I was hesitant. I really didn't know if I could stand to do it. My job can be emotionally exhausting as it is...and to take on a kid...a disfigured kid...a kid who reminds me a lot of people I knew...I was just worried it would be too much. And, I think, I was wary of forming an emotional bond with a client. You learn pretty quickly not to do that...because the failures hurt all the more when that happens.
But I agreed to add him to my roster. I figured I would do what was most likely best for the kid and the company.But I made it clear to my boss, in no uncertain terms, that I would do things my way. If I was being matched with this client because of our similar backgrounds...that I was going to draw on that experience and things might be a little unconventional. He agreed.
And so they have been. So much so that I conduct most of our work out of the sight and hearing of the other clients. Because I yell at him...I say some mean shit.You see...that bond I was afraid of forming...was partially already in place. Amongst soldiers...there's a bond that those on the outside just can't truly fathom.
There's a brotherhood aspect to it...that no matter how much I tried to articulate it here...it just wouldn't be adequately explained. Soldiers bust one another's balls. But they do it with love.And I am a serious ballbuster. When we are involved in physical rehab activities...I go into total D.I. mode. We trade barbs that, to outsiders, would make it appear we hate one another (and that I'm a complete asshole and martinet). The fact that we laugh our asses off over these barbs would really confuse people.A few of my coworkers who have a more touchy-feely approach (which DOES work quite well with some clients) have expressed concerns over my style here......but fuck 'em. Because what I am doing works. And it has helped. A lot. His parents have told me so in progress report meetings. They say he talks about me a lot during their visits....of course, he leaves out the ballbusting.
===============================
Which leads me into the next part...The Kid may have to leave us. It's a long story...the short version being his parent's funding. He may have to move to a less expensive, less intensive, less well equipped facility...or even go back to being at home with only part time visiting aides, etc.And I really do not want that to happen. We've made tangible progress. His depression? He's no longer on anti-depressants. In my presence he hasn't had an angry outburst (common amongst head-injury survivors) in over a month. He can now bang out 25 push-ups when I make him (a big deal considering his muscles were weak from near atrophy when he came to us). We even toss a football around now...although...I still bust his balls when he misses an easy throw.That emotional bond you're supposed to avoid...it's kicking my ass over this. We've made real progress and I'm not ready to give up. In a job like mine...where the rewards are few...seeing improvement in someone make the whole fucking thing worthwhile.And..I don't want to lose what I've received from this relationship. I've spent a lot of time in the last decade working on veteran's issues in my spare time. Most of that consisted of letter writing. Ho hum. Here...I'm making a life better...just one life...of a kid crippled by war.And I feel more useful in that than in all those years of scribbling missives and pleas.
========================
As a medic...I promised the guys in my platoon that I'd always be there for them. Always. No matter what happened...I'd always do my best to help them when the shit hit the fan.It's an ethos I've tried to carry with me. I'm not done helping the Kid yet.
His parent's have yet to tell him he may have to leave. They don't want to say anything in case they can get more funding. I've already told them that if they do have to leave...I'll be by their house (they live only about 20 mins away by car from where I live). And I'll continue to work with him from time to time. His parents, bless their hearts, thought I meant as a paid employee.Anyway....I'm not done working with the Kid yet. I've got plenty more ballbusting to do.
Sometimes the world can be a big bowl of suck.
When he first came to us...I was reluctant to take him on. My boss specifically wanted to assign him to me even though I had a full caseload and wasn't next in line for new client arrivals. He and I have a similar background so my boss thought the connection would be beneficial...the theory being he'd bond with me and I'd know how to handle him better than anyone else on staff because I'm the only employee with anything close to the same experiences.I was hesitant. I really didn't know if I could stand to do it. My job can be emotionally exhausting as it is...and to take on a kid...a disfigured kid...a kid who reminds me a lot of people I knew...I was just worried it would be too much. And, I think, I was wary of forming an emotional bond with a client. You learn pretty quickly not to do that...because the failures hurt all the more when that happens.
But I agreed to add him to my roster. I figured I would do what was most likely best for the kid and the company.But I made it clear to my boss, in no uncertain terms, that I would do things my way. If I was being matched with this client because of our similar backgrounds...that I was going to draw on that experience and things might be a little unconventional. He agreed.
And so they have been. So much so that I conduct most of our work out of the sight and hearing of the other clients. Because I yell at him...I say some mean shit.You see...that bond I was afraid of forming...was partially already in place. Amongst soldiers...there's a bond that those on the outside just can't truly fathom.
There's a brotherhood aspect to it...that no matter how much I tried to articulate it here...it just wouldn't be adequately explained. Soldiers bust one another's balls. But they do it with love.And I am a serious ballbuster. When we are involved in physical rehab activities...I go into total D.I. mode. We trade barbs that, to outsiders, would make it appear we hate one another (and that I'm a complete asshole and martinet). The fact that we laugh our asses off over these barbs would really confuse people.A few of my coworkers who have a more touchy-feely approach (which DOES work quite well with some clients) have expressed concerns over my style here......but fuck 'em. Because what I am doing works. And it has helped. A lot. His parents have told me so in progress report meetings. They say he talks about me a lot during their visits....of course, he leaves out the ballbusting.
===============================
Which leads me into the next part...The Kid may have to leave us. It's a long story...the short version being his parent's funding. He may have to move to a less expensive, less intensive, less well equipped facility...or even go back to being at home with only part time visiting aides, etc.And I really do not want that to happen. We've made tangible progress. His depression? He's no longer on anti-depressants. In my presence he hasn't had an angry outburst (common amongst head-injury survivors) in over a month. He can now bang out 25 push-ups when I make him (a big deal considering his muscles were weak from near atrophy when he came to us). We even toss a football around now...although...I still bust his balls when he misses an easy throw.That emotional bond you're supposed to avoid...it's kicking my ass over this. We've made real progress and I'm not ready to give up. In a job like mine...where the rewards are few...seeing improvement in someone make the whole fucking thing worthwhile.And..I don't want to lose what I've received from this relationship. I've spent a lot of time in the last decade working on veteran's issues in my spare time. Most of that consisted of letter writing. Ho hum. Here...I'm making a life better...just one life...of a kid crippled by war.And I feel more useful in that than in all those years of scribbling missives and pleas.
========================
As a medic...I promised the guys in my platoon that I'd always be there for them. Always. No matter what happened...I'd always do my best to help them when the shit hit the fan.It's an ethos I've tried to carry with me. I'm not done helping the Kid yet.
His parent's have yet to tell him he may have to leave. They don't want to say anything in case they can get more funding. I've already told them that if they do have to leave...I'll be by their house (they live only about 20 mins away by car from where I live). And I'll continue to work with him from time to time. His parents, bless their hearts, thought I meant as a paid employee.Anyway....I'm not done working with the Kid yet. I've got plenty more ballbusting to do.
Sometimes the world can be a big bowl of suck.
Repost 1
Twenty-two, Now and Forever
(Home, part 1)
Before: athletic, humorous, laid back.
Now: Short term memory loss, various mood swings, sudden fits of rage, depression, poor coordination, vision problems.
What happened in between: A Traumatic Brain Injury caused by an IED in Iraq in summer, 2005.
At the age of 22 he, and what remains of his life, changed forever.He has a plate in his skull. He lost a portion of his brain matter and one side of his face is a mass of scars.
=============
He's one of my clients. It's my job to work with him to try and rebuild a life...to hopefully function in the world again. And I can already tell it's not going to happen for him. He's a long way gone.We play memory games. Sometimes they help, most times not. He still thinks it's 2005...always.
Dipping into his emotional reservoir by showing him some pictures from Iraq works. He can name every man in his squad still. But it drains him. And me.He's cognizant enough after his injury to recognize his deficiencies...what he's lost...some times. And it sends him into fits of anger and depression.
Those times of complete lucidity are almost a curse. It sounds terrible to say...but sometimes it's for the best when he blanks out for a time. It's hard to look at...a young man so crippled...staring unfocused and drooling onto his own shirt.It's ugly.It's what the people prone to empty sloganeering don't want to look at.Who really wants to see consequences?
=================
Today...I took him to a seaside town here...to the boardwalk to play ski-ball in an arcade. (I tried to use fun to cover the fact that I was really working on physical coordination)
We had a pretty good day.
(Home, part 1)
Before: athletic, humorous, laid back.
Now: Short term memory loss, various mood swings, sudden fits of rage, depression, poor coordination, vision problems.
What happened in between: A Traumatic Brain Injury caused by an IED in Iraq in summer, 2005.
At the age of 22 he, and what remains of his life, changed forever.He has a plate in his skull. He lost a portion of his brain matter and one side of his face is a mass of scars.
=============
He's one of my clients. It's my job to work with him to try and rebuild a life...to hopefully function in the world again. And I can already tell it's not going to happen for him. He's a long way gone.We play memory games. Sometimes they help, most times not. He still thinks it's 2005...always.
Dipping into his emotional reservoir by showing him some pictures from Iraq works. He can name every man in his squad still. But it drains him. And me.He's cognizant enough after his injury to recognize his deficiencies...what he's lost...some times. And it sends him into fits of anger and depression.
Those times of complete lucidity are almost a curse. It sounds terrible to say...but sometimes it's for the best when he blanks out for a time. It's hard to look at...a young man so crippled...staring unfocused and drooling onto his own shirt.It's ugly.It's what the people prone to empty sloganeering don't want to look at.Who really wants to see consequences?
=================
Today...I took him to a seaside town here...to the boardwalk to play ski-ball in an arcade. (I tried to use fun to cover the fact that I was really working on physical coordination)
We had a pretty good day.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Ruck Up and Move Out
Sometimes you see stories that inspire...
This is one of them.
Wounded Marines Focus on Film Careers
Associated Press January 22, 2008
SAN DIEGO - Joshua Frey looked through the view finder of his camera in a studio production lot, focusing on a group of helmets atop wooden stakes.
They reminded the former U.S. Marine of the memorials to fallen comrades he had seen before he was shot and hit by shrapnel from a rocket-propelled grenade in Iraq, which left him with partial use of his left arm, traumatic brain injury and post-traumatic stress disorder that still haunts his nights.
Frey, like many disabled veterans, has struggled to find a career, to rebuild a life.
Now, more than two years after being wounded in Fallujah, Frey has enrolled in the Wounded Marine Career Foundation program, which aims to help wounded and disabled Marines and Navy corpsmen land jobs in the film industry.
The photos in the studio lot were part assignment, part therapy for Frey. Perhaps, he says, his attempt to use a camera is a new beginning, a path to a new career.
"There's so much riding on this, it has just got to work," Frey says.
With more than 29,000 troops wounded in combat since Sept. 11, 2001, job training for the disabled is a priority for the military.
But unlike many training centers, the foundation's new film boot camp aims to do more than provide skills that help the disabled find a career in film, video, sound design, graphics and photojournalism.
It also aims to let the wounded tell their own stories, says co-founder Kev Lombard, a documentary filmmaker and two-time Emmy-winning director of photography for the children's television show "Reading Rainbow."
Lombard came up with the idea for the foundation's Wounded Marine Training Center for Careers in Media program after being asked by a friend in the military nearly two years ago to document the stories of wounded veterans at military hospitals.
"It wasn't our story to tell. It was theirs," he said. "So I said how about we teach them to tell their own story."
In addition to veterans whose war injuries forced them to retire, the Marine Corps is allowing active duty wounded Marines to enroll.
Lombard and his wife, Judith Paixao, use private and corporate donations and federal grants to operate the program, which costs $2 million (euro1.36 million) for each 10-week session. They plan two sessions a year.
"This isn't about turning out the next Steven Spielberg," Lombard said. "It's about turning out a camera operator, a grip, a boom operator. These are good jobs with good pay."
Amy Lemisch of the California Film Commission says the boot camp appears to be offering nuts-and-bolts skills that are often missing from college film schools.
"It's almost like an apprenticeship," she said.
While jobs in the film industry are highly competitive, Lemisch said the students could find jobs if they develop the right skills.
The program's camouflage-painted building on a studio production lot in San Diego has a Marine Corps atmosphere. Posters from "The Sands of Iwo Jima" and "The Flying Leathernecks" adorn the walls, and the 20 students are broken up into five-member squads.
Paixao says Marines and Navy corpsmen are well-suited for film work because of their discipline and teamwork.
However, many of the wounded and disabled have been removed from military life for some time. As a result, the program emphasizes Marine Corps discipline, says photography student and former Gunnery Sgt. Nick Popaditch.
He has taken on the role of the program's gunnery sergeant, so to speak - briefing students on the day's events and helping new arrivals to San Diego navigate the city.
Popaditch gained widespread attention as the "Cigar Marine" during the fall of Baghdad when a photographer for The Associated Press captured him smiling and smoking a cigar. A year later, he was severely wounded in Fallujah by shrapnel from a rocket-propelled grenade that hit him in the face, damaging one eye and causing him to lose the other.
Many students have severe wounds that require modification of film equipment. Barry Green, an Emmy-award winning producer, worked with Popaditch to figure out how best to use video and still cameras with his injured eye.
"I'm feeling more comfortable with it," Popaditch said hours later, looking through the camera's eye piece.
Across the room, former Gunnery Sgt. Tai Cleveland, 42, worked on loading editing software onto his laptop computer.
It's the first step in what Cleveland hopes will be a new career. He uses a wheelchair since a 2003 training accident in Kuwait caused back and brain injuries, and supports his family on his disability check.
Cleveland dreams of one day building a production studio in his home in Manassas, Virginia, and he and his wife, Robin, have begun putting together a business plan.
"It's a way for me to take back as head of the household with a career that I can do from a wheelchair," he says during the lunch break.
Standing in the cluttered studio lot, instructor Levie Isaacks works with Frey, 31, to complete the day's assignment: shooting a series of five photos that set a scene.
Frey focuses on the helmets, which sit near a box of blank ammunition. For a moment he considers taking pictures. But then he decides against it, saying later that the scene didn't look real.
Isaacks knows a bit what Frey has faced in war, having suffered post-traumatic stress himself as a Vietnam War veteran.
Isaacks has taken the road from combat veteran to Emmy Award-winning directory of photography, whose credits include Fox's "Malcolm in the Middle" and the recent film "Grace," starring Elizabeth Shue.
"You look through that lens and the world is focused," Isaacks says.
This is one of them.
Wounded Marines Focus on Film Careers
Associated Press January 22, 2008
SAN DIEGO - Joshua Frey looked through the view finder of his camera in a studio production lot, focusing on a group of helmets atop wooden stakes.
They reminded the former U.S. Marine of the memorials to fallen comrades he had seen before he was shot and hit by shrapnel from a rocket-propelled grenade in Iraq, which left him with partial use of his left arm, traumatic brain injury and post-traumatic stress disorder that still haunts his nights.
Frey, like many disabled veterans, has struggled to find a career, to rebuild a life.
Now, more than two years after being wounded in Fallujah, Frey has enrolled in the Wounded Marine Career Foundation program, which aims to help wounded and disabled Marines and Navy corpsmen land jobs in the film industry.
The photos in the studio lot were part assignment, part therapy for Frey. Perhaps, he says, his attempt to use a camera is a new beginning, a path to a new career.
"There's so much riding on this, it has just got to work," Frey says.
With more than 29,000 troops wounded in combat since Sept. 11, 2001, job training for the disabled is a priority for the military.
But unlike many training centers, the foundation's new film boot camp aims to do more than provide skills that help the disabled find a career in film, video, sound design, graphics and photojournalism.
It also aims to let the wounded tell their own stories, says co-founder Kev Lombard, a documentary filmmaker and two-time Emmy-winning director of photography for the children's television show "Reading Rainbow."
Lombard came up with the idea for the foundation's Wounded Marine Training Center for Careers in Media program after being asked by a friend in the military nearly two years ago to document the stories of wounded veterans at military hospitals.
"It wasn't our story to tell. It was theirs," he said. "So I said how about we teach them to tell their own story."
In addition to veterans whose war injuries forced them to retire, the Marine Corps is allowing active duty wounded Marines to enroll.
Lombard and his wife, Judith Paixao, use private and corporate donations and federal grants to operate the program, which costs $2 million (euro1.36 million) for each 10-week session. They plan two sessions a year.
"This isn't about turning out the next Steven Spielberg," Lombard said. "It's about turning out a camera operator, a grip, a boom operator. These are good jobs with good pay."
Amy Lemisch of the California Film Commission says the boot camp appears to be offering nuts-and-bolts skills that are often missing from college film schools.
"It's almost like an apprenticeship," she said.
While jobs in the film industry are highly competitive, Lemisch said the students could find jobs if they develop the right skills.
The program's camouflage-painted building on a studio production lot in San Diego has a Marine Corps atmosphere. Posters from "The Sands of Iwo Jima" and "The Flying Leathernecks" adorn the walls, and the 20 students are broken up into five-member squads.
Paixao says Marines and Navy corpsmen are well-suited for film work because of their discipline and teamwork.
However, many of the wounded and disabled have been removed from military life for some time. As a result, the program emphasizes Marine Corps discipline, says photography student and former Gunnery Sgt. Nick Popaditch.
He has taken on the role of the program's gunnery sergeant, so to speak - briefing students on the day's events and helping new arrivals to San Diego navigate the city.
Popaditch gained widespread attention as the "Cigar Marine" during the fall of Baghdad when a photographer for The Associated Press captured him smiling and smoking a cigar. A year later, he was severely wounded in Fallujah by shrapnel from a rocket-propelled grenade that hit him in the face, damaging one eye and causing him to lose the other.
Many students have severe wounds that require modification of film equipment. Barry Green, an Emmy-award winning producer, worked with Popaditch to figure out how best to use video and still cameras with his injured eye.
"I'm feeling more comfortable with it," Popaditch said hours later, looking through the camera's eye piece.
Across the room, former Gunnery Sgt. Tai Cleveland, 42, worked on loading editing software onto his laptop computer.
It's the first step in what Cleveland hopes will be a new career. He uses a wheelchair since a 2003 training accident in Kuwait caused back and brain injuries, and supports his family on his disability check.
Cleveland dreams of one day building a production studio in his home in Manassas, Virginia, and he and his wife, Robin, have begun putting together a business plan.
"It's a way for me to take back as head of the household with a career that I can do from a wheelchair," he says during the lunch break.
Standing in the cluttered studio lot, instructor Levie Isaacks works with Frey, 31, to complete the day's assignment: shooting a series of five photos that set a scene.
Frey focuses on the helmets, which sit near a box of blank ammunition. For a moment he considers taking pictures. But then he decides against it, saying later that the scene didn't look real.
Isaacks knows a bit what Frey has faced in war, having suffered post-traumatic stress himself as a Vietnam War veteran.
Isaacks has taken the road from combat veteran to Emmy Award-winning directory of photography, whose credits include Fox's "Malcolm in the Middle" and the recent film "Grace," starring Elizabeth Shue.
"You look through that lens and the world is focused," Isaacks says.
Friday, December 28, 2007
"The Finest Young Men You'll Ever Know"
Tired as hell...we slumped in our hard plastic seats...some trying to close their eyes for a few minutes under the harsh fluorescent light glare. Two hundred eighteen and nineteen year old kids. It was in the early hours of the morning and we'd been marching around in shabby formation in the several hours since arriving at Fort Benning. It was our first day in the Army. We were nervous and tired. Most had been awake for over twenty-four hours. The last thing we wanted was yet another "Welcome to the Army" talk in a lecture hall on more rules and regulations. But that's exactly what we got.
Some Major who was in charge of training schedules came bounding out on stage and went on about this and that. One of the few things I remember was one of his closing remarks about how all the guys around us would be remembered as "Some of the finest young men you'll ever know."
There were some derisive snorts...a few groans at what sounded so cornball at the time.
It took some years and some real experience to make me feel sorry I scoffed that night. (A lot of years, actually since I realize right to this day and will continue to do so. Damn...next month it will have been twenty years since that night. Twenty years! I'm getting old)
Going into the service was quite the culture shock...but I can also say honestly that coming out and going into the university world and later the civilian workforce was equally the shocker.
It's not easy transitioning from being a tool of politicians to a victim of office politics. One is important and the other is almost unbelievably petty by contrast.
There's a certain comfort in knowing that you can trust everyone around you...that your people will do anything for you...that everyone has a sense of duty to pull their own weight and do their jobs to the best of their ability. They are proud to be a member of the team and can't stand the idea of letting their comrades down.
And it's more than pride. At the risk of sounding cornball myself...it's love. How else can one explain things like kids only a year or two out of high school volunteering for dangerous missions so that the older, married guys with kids (guys with more to lose should they die) can stay back and stay safe?
Juxtapose that with the pettiness that can pervade the allegedly adult workplace (or even the blogosphere?) and I can say...at the risk of sounding like an ass...that most people I've encountered in the last twelve years just do not measure up. It's not easy to adjust to an atmosphere in which your coworkers will quite literally lay down their life for you to one in which people steal credit for your ideas and deflect any and all blame for their own shortcomings and mistakes (which is the annoyance that inspired this post...ahem).
This is probably why I haven't made any close friendships in the workplace (and only a few when in college). I think I hold people to this arbitrary standard of mine. Yet...it's a two way street. I feel like no matter how low I set the bar...too many people would fail to be able to reach it.
Maybe it sounds anachronistic to talk about things like having a sense of duty and of personal honor (although...on that other site...the word honor is tossed around a lot...and I suspect few people really grasp it and fewer really abide by a code)...but I like to think that they haven't totally disappeared.
I know some people still carry on this way. I know. I remember them.
Some Major who was in charge of training schedules came bounding out on stage and went on about this and that. One of the few things I remember was one of his closing remarks about how all the guys around us would be remembered as "Some of the finest young men you'll ever know."
There were some derisive snorts...a few groans at what sounded so cornball at the time.
It took some years and some real experience to make me feel sorry I scoffed that night. (A lot of years, actually since I realize right to this day and will continue to do so. Damn...next month it will have been twenty years since that night. Twenty years! I'm getting old)
Going into the service was quite the culture shock...but I can also say honestly that coming out and going into the university world and later the civilian workforce was equally the shocker.
It's not easy transitioning from being a tool of politicians to a victim of office politics. One is important and the other is almost unbelievably petty by contrast.
There's a certain comfort in knowing that you can trust everyone around you...that your people will do anything for you...that everyone has a sense of duty to pull their own weight and do their jobs to the best of their ability. They are proud to be a member of the team and can't stand the idea of letting their comrades down.
And it's more than pride. At the risk of sounding cornball myself...it's love. How else can one explain things like kids only a year or two out of high school volunteering for dangerous missions so that the older, married guys with kids (guys with more to lose should they die) can stay back and stay safe?
Juxtapose that with the pettiness that can pervade the allegedly adult workplace (or even the blogosphere?) and I can say...at the risk of sounding like an ass...that most people I've encountered in the last twelve years just do not measure up. It's not easy to adjust to an atmosphere in which your coworkers will quite literally lay down their life for you to one in which people steal credit for your ideas and deflect any and all blame for their own shortcomings and mistakes (which is the annoyance that inspired this post...ahem).
This is probably why I haven't made any close friendships in the workplace (and only a few when in college). I think I hold people to this arbitrary standard of mine. Yet...it's a two way street. I feel like no matter how low I set the bar...too many people would fail to be able to reach it.
Maybe it sounds anachronistic to talk about things like having a sense of duty and of personal honor (although...on that other site...the word honor is tossed around a lot...and I suspect few people really grasp it and fewer really abide by a code)...but I like to think that they haven't totally disappeared.
I know some people still carry on this way. I know. I remember them.
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
Hearts and Minds
How often do you hear people say "Support the Troops!" with almost pious tones?
Have you ever wondered exactly what it is they do to show support?
I came across this post on Alt:
"Tomorrow (Dec. 1), I'll be at the MOA (Mall of America) to participate in the Largest Yellow Ribbon event at 2pm.
An 80ft. crane will take a picture of everyone in a ribbon formation and will send it to the troops overseas for support.
Hopefully it will be fun and the snow and ice won't keep people away. "
Sigh. Heart in the right place, mind in the wrong one.
At first...the silly, naive soft-headedness of this post made me angry. Much in the same way that seeing yellow ribbon bumper magnets on SUV's infuriates me (yeah, magnets, they don't even have the commitment for a sticker).
A photo of you by a ribbon? Really? And this will make the kid with the ulcers from worry...the exhausted kid...the scared kid....feel better...how? He went overseas to a war zone and he's going to feel better about his mission because you went to a mall?
Fucking stupid.
I got control of myself though...and didn't tear into this blogger. After all, their heart is in the right place. They just need direction and knowledge. And some common sense.
This is one reason I try to educate people. Folks obviously want to do something...they just don't know what to do. And all too goddamned often they wind up with platitudes and meaningless actions (fucking flag pins and magnets and nonsense like the above blog post)...and feel they've done something. People with the will, the desire and the means to show genuine support wind up wasting their time on some real silly shit. Then they feel like they've somehow accomplished something and the need and desire to help is alleviated. And a chance to really do something useful is lost.
I'd rather people send care packages of useful items. I want people to remain informed about veteran's issues so that when these kids come home they'll be well taken care of. I want people to take direct action if they honestly want to show support. Write to politicians, monitor military related legislation. Force the fucking suits to keep their promises to kids who take on a hard life to do things other people can not or will not.
Direct action.
Maybe I'll finish writing on this in another post. I can't decide whether I'm sad, angry, disgusted or frustrated right now.
Have you ever wondered exactly what it is they do to show support?
I came across this post on Alt:
"Tomorrow (Dec. 1), I'll be at the MOA (Mall of America) to participate in the Largest Yellow Ribbon event at 2pm.
An 80ft. crane will take a picture of everyone in a ribbon formation and will send it to the troops overseas for support.
Hopefully it will be fun and the snow and ice won't keep people away. "
Sigh. Heart in the right place, mind in the wrong one.
At first...the silly, naive soft-headedness of this post made me angry. Much in the same way that seeing yellow ribbon bumper magnets on SUV's infuriates me (yeah, magnets, they don't even have the commitment for a sticker).
A photo of you by a ribbon? Really? And this will make the kid with the ulcers from worry...the exhausted kid...the scared kid....feel better...how? He went overseas to a war zone and he's going to feel better about his mission because you went to a mall?
Fucking stupid.
I got control of myself though...and didn't tear into this blogger. After all, their heart is in the right place. They just need direction and knowledge. And some common sense.
This is one reason I try to educate people. Folks obviously want to do something...they just don't know what to do. And all too goddamned often they wind up with platitudes and meaningless actions (fucking flag pins and magnets and nonsense like the above blog post)...and feel they've done something. People with the will, the desire and the means to show genuine support wind up wasting their time on some real silly shit. Then they feel like they've somehow accomplished something and the need and desire to help is alleviated. And a chance to really do something useful is lost.
I'd rather people send care packages of useful items. I want people to remain informed about veteran's issues so that when these kids come home they'll be well taken care of. I want people to take direct action if they honestly want to show support. Write to politicians, monitor military related legislation. Force the fucking suits to keep their promises to kids who take on a hard life to do things other people can not or will not.
Direct action.
Maybe I'll finish writing on this in another post. I can't decide whether I'm sad, angry, disgusted or frustrated right now.
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