For Veterans Day I want to say something nice about the crazy PTSD Vietnam war vet who took me in...

[hunter]

... when I was at my very worst, even though I later burnt my bridges with him badly, biting the hand that had housed me.

The garden shed in his back yard was better than living in my car, and the best he could offer.

I'm pretty sure he arranged the job that got me functional again.

Damned Christians.

Maybe he saw a kindred spirit in me, but my personal wars and PTSD were no Vietnam.

[LiberalLoner]

1. ❤️❤️❤️

[Piasladic]

2. I only know about Vietnam PTSD from growing up with friends who had parents the same age as my dad.

I was born in 75. All of my friends' dads didn't serve, come back, or come back whole.

My dad was a dodger (fake medical), my mom's brothers were Jehovah's Witnesses (conscientious objectors), and my husband's dad was unfit (real skin condition). They are the only sort of sane men of that age I knew growing up. A lot of the other folk's dads that had gone to war, including my uncle-in-laws, came back worse for wear. Or not.

I think today, it's especially fitting that you remember someone that helped you. You helped people who never knew him, think of him.

[alfredo]

7. Even if you were not under fire, the military experience will have an effect.

My MOS and related jobs was very stressful, turned too many to the bottle. Our field station had the highest per capita alcohol consumption in the Army.

It radicalized me, made me withdraw from society. I enjoyed it.

[COL Mustard]

9. Just Curious, Which Field Station?

DM me if you don't want to post it here but I know a little about several of them.

[alfredo]

14. Kagnew

05H20

[COL Mustard]

16. I Was In A Unit That Supported Augsburg

Back in the day. They were some of the smartest people I’ve ever met.

Thank you for serving! 🇺🇸

[flying rabbit]

3. Life...

is a trip.

[chowder66]

4. You made me remember the dad who drove my high school carpool. He was a Vietnam Vet.

He drove a VW Bus which I adored because we had one when I was little. He and his kids picked up a couple of us kids in the neighborhood.
We were Seniors at the time.
Typically the kids would talk and joke around. I was pretty quiet during those trips.
One day after school his kids had extracurricular classes so it was just him and I.

On that day I asked him how he was doing.

He suddenly broke down.

He opened up to me about his struggles, his mental health and talked to me about Vietnam and losing his buddies.
I sat quietly listening. He then apologized, wiping tears away. I told him it was okay.
He didn't know why he did that with me. I told him it didn't matter because he needed to let go. I'm glad he got that emotion out.

From that day on, he had an air of joy about him. We ended up talking a lot more (about general stuff) after that until I graduated.

He was a super nice man who just needed a minute.

[alfredo]

5. He probably knew he could trust you.

Thanks for being There for him.

[chowder66]

10. I wonder if no one asked him how he was doing for a while. That's always stuck with me.

Sometimes family, life just ticks along and people take each other for granted. My guess is that much of the time it is not intentional.

The pressure he may have felt, to be the head of the family, may have caused him to quash his emotions that were bubbling up to the edge.

[alfredo]

12. The regimentation imposed was really rough for me.

I was in intel and that brings other pressures. We got off easy, we were not subject to life or death situations.

[chowder66]

15. I can't even imagine that level of stress.

My dad was stateside but lost a ton of guys he trained with and became close too. I only found that out after asking why he never watched war movies.

[Gaugamela]

6. Your story reminds me of a Wallace Stevens poem (written after WWII):

A Woman Sings a Song for a Soldier Come Home
~Wallace Stevens

The wound kills that does not bleed,
It has no nurse nor kin to know,
Nor kin to care.

And the man dies that does not fall.
He walks and dies. Nothing survives
Except what was,

Under the white clouds piled and piled
Like gathered-up forgetfulness,
In sleeping air.

The clouds are over the village, the town,
To which the walker speaks
And tells of his wound,

Without a word to the people, unless
One person should come by chance,
This man or that,

So much a part of the place, so little
A person he knows, with whom he might
Talk of the weather —

And let it go, with nothing lost,
Just out of the village, at its edge,
In the quiet there.

[chowder66]

8. Wow. That hit me. Thank you for sharing. nt

[alfredo]

13. Same here

[denbot]

11. A kick, and toast for your bro..

I'm sure he didn't sweat the small stuff..