In another tragic incident, Stanley Gibson, a disabled veteran suffering from PTSD was shot and killed by Las Vegas police on December 12, 2012, while sitting in his car.  The veteran was confused and disoriented, according to reports, and had pulled into the wrong parking lot by mistake.  Gibson and his wife had recently moved after losing their home and Stanley had missed a canceled appointment with the VA to renew his medications.  After an hour standoff, police shot a beanbag through the rear car window in an effort to chase Gibson out of his car.  A fellow police officer opened fire when he heard the shot, killing the ex-soldier.  At first, authorities said that Jesus Arevalo, a nine-year police veteran, had misinterpreted the beanbag shot for gunfire from Gibson, causing him to open fire.  However, recent reports state that supervisors had briefed Arevalo about the strategy to use a beanbag shotgun and pepper spray to force the disabled, mentally ill veteran from his car. The incident was caught on film by bystanders who had watched the one-hour standoff.

Also on Christmas Eve in Columbus, Ohio, 18-year Army veteran who was active in veterans and community issues, Mujahed Badruddeen, lost his life while trying to thwart a robbery at the nearby Advance Auto Parts store where he once worked.  “Sarge,” was a frequent visitor to the store even though he had been fired by the company for chasing down and tackling a store robber.  This time, as Badruddeen and two friends chatted in the parking lot after the store closed, two men approached them and demanded their wallets.  At least one was clearly armed and Badruddeen, a military man skilled in martial arts, attempted to wrestle the gun from the assailant.  In the process, Badruddeen was shot in the face, according to Columbus police.  He died a few hours later.

In May, two-tour Iraq Marine Jose Guerena was shot 60 times by Pima County, Arizona, SWAT team members while his wife and 4-year old son hid in the closet.  The raid was part of a 20-month narcotics investigation authorities say tied Guerena to other family members suspected of drug trafficking.  No drugs apparently were found in Guerena’s home or in his body.  Helmet video shows that the team played their siren for eight seconds shortly before parking the police cars outside the door.  Guerena’s wife, Vanessa, heard alarming noises outside of their home and rushed to awaken her husband who had just fallen to sleep after a 12-hour shift at the local mine.  Guerena told her to grab their son and hide in the closet as he grabbed an AR-15 rifle and pointed it toward the door just as it shattered in.  After the fact reports say that a shot from the team splintered the door jam, causing police to open fire with 71 rounds in seven seconds directed at Guerena.  Vanessa was dragged from the closet past her husband’s bleeding body before being allowed to call 911.  Recordings indicate that she didn’t appear to know who the intruders were even as she begged 911 operators for the ambulance that arrived long after her husband had expired.  SWAT members where cleared of wrongdoing, but in November Vanessa filed a $20 million wrongful death suit against Pima County, the towns of Marana, Sahuarita and Oro Valley and the officers involved in the raid. After the fact investigations show that Guerena’s gun had not been fired.

Former Marine and Iraq war veteran Scott Olsen was critically injured when a projectile fired by police at Occupy Wall Street protestors struck him in the head.  The software engineer and political activist was hospitalized and sustained brain injury, but is recovering.

Patrick Casey served in the Army in Afghanistan for 12 months, but died as a hero at home.  Casey was working toward an international-affairs master’s program at George Washington University.  He and a female friend were walking to visit friends when they stumbled upon three people who were harassing people in a fast food joint.  Someone pushed his friend and Casey, well over 6-foot tall and almost 300 pounds, moved between the group and his friend.  Someone executed a quick sucker-punch that knocked Casey backward.  He fell backward and hit his head on the sidewalk. The head injury resulted in death four dates later.

Even though violent crime is at its lowest in decades, it is ironic and tragic that those who appeared to have escaped the worst of war find themselves cast into violence at home.  Some respond as the heroes they are, risking their lives for the values that sent them to fight for their country in the first place.

But others lost their grip and fell into the black pit of despair that is a common and constant companion to too many veterans.  There are times in each of our lives when we are no longer able to go it alone.  There is no shame in that.  The shame should be felt by the rest of us if we fail to grab hold when we see a veteran who no longer has the strength to hold on.

President Franklin Roosevelt imprisoned 120,000 Japanese Americans–adults and children, citing national security as justification.   Those forced into camps lost everything, often entering the camp with nothing more than the clothes they wore on their backs and the few belongings that they were allowed to snatch up and stuff into a bag.  Men, women and children were herded onto busses with blacked-out windows, not knowing where they were going or when they would return.  Business owners lost everything; homeowners had to abandon their homes and the contents within.  Many Japanese women and children were interned even as the their fathers fought in the war.

The 442nd Regimental Combat Team, made up almost entirely of American Japanese, fought in Italy, France and Germany and became the most highly decorated regiment in U.S. history.  Their casualty rate was astronomical and reflected in the 21 Medal of Honor recipients and their motto, “Go for broke.”

In one five-day period they lost over 800 men, earning the 442nd the nickname,  “Purple Heart Battalion.” The 14,000 men who served in the battalion throughout the war earned 9,486 Purple Hearts and an unprecedented eight Presidential Unit Citations;  21 of its members were awarded Medals of Honor. In total, members of the 442nd received 18,143 awards including 52 Distinguished Service Crosses, 19 of which were upgraded to Medals of Honor in June 2000; 560 Silver Stars; and 4,000 Bronze Stars.

Their bravery, along with that of African American soldiers during the war, led President Truman to desegregate the Armed Forces.

In recognition of the unit’s heroism,  last October President Obama, a Hawaii native who grew up on stories of the 442nd’s valor,  signed into law a bill that would grant the 442nd Regimental Combat Team and the 100th Infantry Battalion as well as the  6,000 Japanese Americans who served in the Military Intelligence Services the Congressional Gold Medal.

Veterans of the unit will receive their Awards in April at a Washington D.C. ceremony, but on Thursday morning  one veteran got his early.  Robert Masami Iso was awarded the honor at the VA Menlo Park division’s Community Living Center when his doctor pushed for its early presentation.  The 92-year old World War II veteran had received a Bronze Star for Valor and two Purple Hearts while serving in the European theater including the famous rescue mission in France in 1944 and an equally bloody mission in Italy in 1945.  His service permanently put him in a wheelchair at age 24.

Iso died less than a week after receiving his medal.  Rest in peace.

23,Oct. 2011, 40 years since DEROS. It was a beautiful, cool, crisp, mostly sunny fall morning in our nations Capitol. I’ve come to pay my respects at THE WALL. It’s been 40 years since I survived the Hell of Vietnam. The heat, the rain, the mud, the dust, the anger, and hatred that place is remembered for. I was 18 years old in Oct. 1970 when I arrived at the Air base in Bien Hoa. In the subsequent 12 months I experienced things that no one should EVER have to live through. Live through it I did, somehow. Now here I stand facing THE WALL.

Unsure, reverential, frightened by the prospect of facing the names on that wall  and the memories of how they came to be enshrined there. I am humbled. I  “man  up” and approach THE WALL.

I traverse the whole length of that wound in the earth and I am comforted. It is good. It is as good in person as I have thought it would be these many years. I found the only name I keep in my mind there on THE WALL.

I did not touch it, only saw it there engraved in the stone, and it
was good. I may try to go again, alone, after hours and grieve privately at so
much loss.

The loss of so much potential.

Monique wrote:

Back in 2000 my brother was playing high school football. I never thought that one play would leave him paralyzed. Doctors told him he would never walk again and to get used to his wheelchair. About a month after his accident doctors almost amputated his foot. By the grace of God and the fight to want more out of life, he proved doctors wrong 8 months later. He started to walk again and
building strength in his legs. In 2003 he enlisted in the Air Force, I thought they would never take him because his walk was a little off and he barely had any sensation in his left foot. To my surprise he passed every physical tasked enforced by the United States Air Force and he still continues to beat all odds. In 2006 he was deployed to Iraq for 6 months. Those 6 months felt like forever. When he came home he had more secrets that he could not share hidden in his eyes. The Air Force helped change my brother to fight for more out of life. The USAF and his family gave him more drive and dedication to exceed any and all expectations anyone had ever given him. Even till this day my brother has been
blessed to push past all odd’s life has thrown at him and he is my HERO for always wanting more out of life then what people tell you are going to be.
Website: http://free2justbme.blogspot.com

AW Schade, USMC, Vietnam 1966/67

After writing the “The Demons of War are Persistent,” my personal story of Vietnam, and the struggle over forty years against emotional conflicts, nightmares and guilt, which today is universally recognized as PTSD. Like many warriors, I never spoke about the war, nor stayed in touch with brother warriors, dreading the likelihood of talking about horrific memories.
However, this story is not intended to rehash the demons of PTSD. Instead, it is a story of a single session of therapy that helped me grasp why I felt mediocre throughout my life. Do not get me wrong, you will not read about a magical solution to PTSD. There remains a darkness in my soul that I continue to fight back to keep from surfacing. Yet, the following account helped me look at one of my PTSD issues, from a different perspective. Hopefully, it will do the same for you?
At one of our sessions, the group and doctor convinced me to speak about myself, starting with my overall thought of my duty in Vietnam–that is; what I felt I accomplished; instead of what I lost of myself.
After a long hesitation, I told them the greatest accomplishment in Vietnam was the hundreds of people our teams personally saved from rape, torture, or savage death. We did not give a damn about the politicians and college students back home arguing, or running off to Canada to avoid the draft. We were enlisted Marines , on the front lines, protecting innocent people caught up in a horrific war.
My most positive moment, I continued, was when I lifted a three-year-old girl from the rubble that separated her from her parents, who were slaughtered by the Viet Cong for giving us rice the day before. Though traumatized and trembling in fear, she reached up to me, I cradled her gently in my arms and made her smile, for only a moment. I handed her to one of our extraordinary corpsman, and continued to seek out the enemy who committed these atrocious murders. It was then I understood why I was in Vietnam.
However, as with all things I masked in my subconscious, I obscured that moment of compassion for decades. Until this small therapy group encouraged me to glance back and look for positive events. Which most often were engulfed within the worst of war’s memories.
Moving on to questions regarding my post-war years, they asked me to focus on my career. The doctor knew I continued to battle the demons, and wanted me to focus on an area where he knew I had some success.
I explained when I left the Marines, after four years, I was youthful and confident in myself. I had no clue as to what depression and anxiety were, and I thought the nightmares were personal and temporary. I was determined to look forward, and in no way backwards to the war.
Unfortunately, over the years I realized that while constantly looking forward helped me avoid chaotic memories of war, it would eventually shadow the memories of my formative years, and positive events throughout my life.
I thought it would be a good time to stop talking, but the group asked me to continue. As peers, they knew I needed to feel a purpose, and not think my life was a second-rate existence. I was reluctant, as I looked around the room and knew many of the Vets succumbed to PTSD early in life. I felt I was about to sound like a wimp.
Awkwardly, I began to tell them-with many gaps-about my career after Vietnam. My first recollection was one they all understood, that I went through eleven or twelve jobs feeling totally out of place. Watching sales managers gather their teams, and with fanatical enthusiasm tell them how great we were, and together would attain the highest sales revenue, beating all other regions. To me this was a kid’s game, compared to victories in combat.
Feeling extremely inadequate, I was ready to head back to the military. However, before it happened, I got married to my current wife of 42 years-who will be the first to tell you, living with a type ‘A’ personality with PTSD, and didn’t know it, was often a living Hell. Especially when she had no idea what I was battling, but then neither did I. Like millions of warriors before me, I never spoke to anyone about the war, or the nightmares that abruptly woke me; soaked in sweat. I decided not to reenlist and pursued a career in business.
Throughout my thirty-five years in business, I never learned to accept other’s euphoria when achieving business objectives. However, I was a Marine and team player and through hard work and personal commitments, I continuously helped peers, executives, and of course, myself, achieve our business goals. Even when I became an executive, I never sensed the adrenaline rush of winning, as I did in combat.
In any case, after eleven plus jobs I wound up working for a bank repossessing cars, but within four years worked my way up to branch manager-without a college degree, which was just becoming mandatory to being hired into a decent corporate position. After six months as branch manager I was bored and under paid; banks are great with titles, but at the time not competitive with salaries. I was ready to do something else when I received an offer from a very large computer company to join their company as a collection administrator.
It seemed I was taking a step backwards to where I started at the bank. However, it was their answer to one question; “If I work my ass off is there an opportunity to advance?” The answer was “yes”, and I never regretted my decision. Don’t get me wrong, it was hard work and a lot of personal sacrifice for me and my family, but going from ten thousand, to over two hundred thousand dollars a year in income over my career, confirmed the decision I made thirty years before was correct.
I realized that was the first time I thought of something I did as significant. It was rather good. I felt the group sensed a change in my demeanor, but I thought some of them had to be thinking, ‘two hundred thousand dollars, how the hell does this guy think he never achieved anything?’ I understood why some of them would feel that way, because after thirty-five years they had nothing.
However, what I did not tell them was that depression, anxiety and thoughts of suicide continuously hounded me. Yes, the money was good, but I was constantly searching for the ultimate ‘adrenalin rush’ and crucial decision-making situations, I experienced in combat. Regardless of what I achieved, nothing brought me close to those feelings. Over time, this created emptiness in my soul, which permitted the demons to maneuver through my mind, at will.
I decided not to belabor them with these details, so I summed up my story by sharing highlights of what I remembered-which surprisingly was more than I thought.
Yes, it seemed I went backwards by switching jobs, picking up where I began my story, but I made slightly more money. More important, I was engaged in a fresh challenge. Even though I began in collections, within a year I was promoted to management in one of our largest branch offices. By the end of the following year, the branch went from the worst operations’ office to number one. For that, I jumped a few levels of management to the Branch Administration Manager. It felt very good, but I attributed it to working hard, good staff, and leadership-which was my primary strength. Unfortunately, I experienced no sense of jubilation.
After attaining many personal and management awards, I was selected, along with a small group of others, to attend Syracuse University to attain a BS degree in Management-paid for by the company. I was very pleased with the opportunity, and for the first time I felt a sense of pride when I graduated. It was a grueling task, but the results were well worth it. We even had some fun when taught by a few professors who avoided the Vietnam draft, and taught their liberal ideals until they realized they were not influencing eighteen-year old students. They had ‘book knowledge’, while we had actual experience. It always felt good to challenge the few who thought they knew it all.
During this period, we had three great sons who needed both a mother and father around. As coach for each son’s team, little league president, husband, and juggling work, school and family was frequently chaos. I did my best but never considered it an accomplishment; instead, it was my responsibility as a man, father and husband.
When I returned to work after finishing school, I began my old ways of switching jobs within the company every two years. It was actually the only way for me to fight the demons. Like Lee Marvin in the “Dirty Dozen,” just send me to do a job, then move me on when it’s finished. Every job I selected was very different, which kept me in a constant learning mode, and managing new challenges.
I accepted challenging positions in finance, marketing, business development, sales, bringing new products from research to market, consulting, managing relationships with business partners, and traveling around the world working with country managers to resolve issues. Nevertheless, the nightmares, depression, anger, and anxiety were increasing beyond my control. I had to refocus on moving ahead. Until one day, I finally realized ‘boredom’ was a major catalyst for my emotional setbacks; having too much time to think and not being productive, was a recipe for falling hard into the bowels of PTSD.
For instance, I was asked to work on the regional staff in NYC for a year, a two and half hour one-way commute every day; three years later, I was still there. So what does a supposedly ‘smart’ man, with the baggage of PTSD, do when he does not get his way? Yup, I quit! Without any discussion with my wife or kids, I made the decision that after fifteen years of service, knowing I would lose my lifetime pension, salary, health insurance, had no savings, and a wife and three kids to feed, it was time to move on. I taught them a lesson. NOT!
With no job, I found work at a small medical insurance company on a commission only basis. I was going to set the world on fire, instead I found myself on target to make, possibly, ten thousand dollars a year, again. All I worked sixty and seventy hours a week for was gone. I was a failure; falling deeper into the abyss of PTSD. But I wasn’t a quitter and never stopped trying to salvage or life.
However, God is good! Nine months after quitting my job and discussing bankruptcy, a friend from my old job called me and said he had a position for me if I wanted it. I wanted it! I told him. I would also kiss his butt and make him brownies for breakfast if he could pull it off. Thankfully, he did not take me up on either of my offers, and closed the deal. I was jubilant, but I had nothing to do with this turnaround of events. For the first time in a year, I was looking forward again. Yet, continued chastising myself for putting my family in that position.
Based on past performance the company had no objections to bringing me back. More important, because I was rehired within a year I had no break in employment service, and everything was reinstated as if I never left; salary, pension, insurance, etc. Slowly my family finances began to get back on track, and I continued looking ahead at opportunities. I still needed to change jobs every couple of years, which I continued to do successfully, without leaving the company again, until I retired.
Towards the end of my career, I began to write and publish two books. The first, was “Stop, before you lose your time, money and reputation.” It is about how to avoid scams, and the work it really takes to build a business on the internet. However, wait until I rewrite it because the grammar is horrible. My second book, “Looking for God within the Kingdom of Religious Confusion.”, is one man’s semi-nonfiction journey to find the truth about God, Spirituality, and Secularism. This is edited, published and selling fairly well.
The thought of retirement frightened me, because I assumed I would have too much time [boredom] to focus on the past. It was also around the time of the 1st Gulf War, and everywhere you turned were vivid pictures of death, and no way to escape the memories of Vietnam. .At the same time I still didn’t accept I had PTSD, but thankfully my brother-in-law was persistent and talked me into getting a quick check up. Three physiatrists later, I was not only diagnosed with PTSD, but for the first time understood the demons I have been fighting alone for forty years. Today, with the continued help of medications, therapy, outside activities and writing I can still look ahead.
I have also taken on a cause through my story; “The Demons of war are Persistent” to reach out to young and senior veterans to break the stigma of PTSD and seek assistance. There is a list on my website, http://www.awschade.com, under the tab “Demons of War” with numerous resources freely looking to help brothers and sisters of war.
Here are a few suggestions from one warrior to another:
• Break through the stigma of PTSD and get assistance; it is real!
• The longer you wait for treatment, the harder it will be to handle the demons.
• Understand it is never too late to begin looking ahead and achieving new objectives.
• If you do not want to speak about PTSD with your family or friends, then hand them a brochure from the VA that explains what to look for, and why you may need their support. You do not have to go into detail about the tragedies of war.
• This is not a promotion because it’s free, but also have them read my story “The Demons of War are Persistent.” Many families have told me they never new what war really does to a person until they read it.
• Silence and solitude is not the answer, if you have PTSD you cannot beat it alone
• If you are concerned about your Military or Civilian job, seek help from the resources mentioned above. They are your peers, and no one will know.
• Or, if in doubt call a person in a support group. They won’t know you, but will talk for as long as you wish.
• You can never explain the horrors of war to someone, except a qualified psychologist, that has not experienced it.
• Get up off your ass and take a serious look into yourself and ask if you have continuous nightmares, flashbacks, depression, bursts of anger, anxiety or thoughts of suicide. If so, talk to someone who can help, the demons are not going away. But ,you can learn to understand and manage them.

Finally, let your ego or macho image go. There are too many individuals and groups wanting to help. If you do not, you may find yourself alone and bitter for a lifetime.

http://www.awschade.com [Video and Reviews]

GUY MITCHELL

Guy Mitchell gmitchell@centurylink.net> wrote:

23,Oct. 2011, 40 years since DEROS. It was a beautiful, cool, crisp, mostly sunny fall morning in our nations Capitol. I’ve come to pay my respects at THE WALL. It’s been 40 years since I survived the Hell of Vietnam. The heat, the rain, the mud, the dust, the anger, and hatred that place is remembered for. I was 18 years old in Oct. 1970 when I arrived at the Air base in Bien Hoa. In the subsequent 12 months I experienced things that no one should EVER have to live through. Live through it I did, somehow. Now here I stand facing THE WALL.

Unsure, reverential, frightened by the prospect of facing the names on that wall  and the memories of how they came to be enshrined there. I am humbled. I  “man  up” and approach THE WALL.

I traverse the whole length of that wound in the earth and I am comforted. It is good. It is as good in person as I have thought it would be these many years. I found the only name I keep in my mind there on THE WALL.

I did not touch it, only saw it there engraved in the stone, and it
was good. I may try to go again, alone, after hours and grieve privately at so
much loss.

The loss of so much potential.

Monique phonehugs@gmail.com> wrote:
Back in 2000 my brother was playing high school football. I never thought that one play would leave him paralyzed. Doctors told him he would never walk again and to get used to his wheelchair. About a month after his accident doctors almost amputated his foot. By the grace of God and the fight to want more out of life, he proved doctors wrong 8 months later. He started to walk again and
building strength in his legs. In 2003 he enlisted in the Air Force, I thought they would never take him because his walk was a little off and he barely had any sensation in his left foot. To my surprise he passed every physical tasked enforced by the United States Air Force and he still continues to beat all odds. In 2006 he was deployed to Iraq for 6 months. Those 6 months felt like forever. When he came home he had more secrets that he could not share hidden in his eyes. The Air Force helped change my brother to fight for more out of life. The USAF and his family gave him more drive and dedication to exceed any and all expectations anyone had ever given him. Even till this day my brother has been
blessed to push past all odd’s life has thrown at him and he is my HERO for always wanting more out of life then what people tell you are going to be.
Website: http://free2justbme.blogspot.com

The unit rotated in and out over the next half year, but most ended up deploying to Afghanistan or Iraq, like Luo.  Since then almost 8,000 soldiers from the unit have served in Iraq and Afghanistan.  Members of the 42nd Infantry Division headquarters were the first Guard division headquarters to see combat since the Korean War.

As a writer, I read many books. And I can’t complain about this task because I love to read. So when I come across a book that is a great read and inspirational to the military spouse, I simply must share. Reading Vino in Vo, I felt as if I could not put the book down. I absolutely had to keep on reading to find what would happen next. Books like these are what I wish I had just one year ago when my husband was deployed. You feel like you can relate in a way to each of the characters.

The book paints a beautiful picture of three women surviving deployment and bonded by an extreme friendship. Chrisy Krueger uses her experiences from when stationed with her husband in Italy, and has turned it into an unforgettable story of friendship, courage and strength. The three women portrayed in this book, Perry, Jonah and Kristen help us to relate to the stories and just how important support, encouragement and friendship are during these times. The three very different personalities of these women are a great combination and seem to work fabulous in this book.

Moments from this book will make you cry and smile at the same time. Being able to read something that is so real will help you to cope and feel so close to the many women going through deployment. And I would not only recommend this book to military spouses, but to women who are surviving life. It is incredible just how this friendship between these three women seems to overcome almost any obstacle.

To learn more on where to purchase Vino in Vo, visit my website.

http://bubble-cast.com

This review is based solely on my opinion. I am not a paid to endorse this product in any way. My purpose is to provide honest opinions to my readers.