[Troy]

Children's deaths were one of the hardest parts of the war. That pix of the girl running down the road, clothing burned off by napalm is an icon of how terrible war can be.

Thanks for helping me keep all of this in perspective. Even one of these images could give someone PTSD for life, and the soldier has an accumulation of such scenes. When they come to mind, it's like...grab the remote and change stations ... but on the next station are more scenes, maybe worse than the one we are running from, and the next station, and the next.

And when we think the program has ended, we see a young boy playing with a toy gun, or we encounter a smell or a sound, and the replay resumes. There's almost no escaping the replays.

There's no way to explain these things to anyone IRL (in real life). Who will understand my weeping because I see a boy walking on the beach? Who will understand my anxiety when I see two young boys riding a motorcycle in traffic? Who will understand the panic in my eyes when I hear about a soldier's funeral? My war is long gone. I'm not supposed to be affected like this. *tears

One afternoon I stood in a Vietnamese village, the only American around. I stood by a well 6' across with only a 6" wall above ground. A momma san drew water with a bucket. Kids were all around. I didn't feel any danger. The first peaceful place I'd seen in weeks. The sun was slanting through the banana palms and the kids were playing.

A old man walked by with a bundle on one shoulder and a shovel on the other. He came near me and nodded and walked up a narrow dirt path among the trees, right into the evening sun.

A kid said in English, "Hi GI" and started a little conversation. In the midst of my asking him about school and his family, he told me about a baby who drowned in his village. I finally came to understand he was saying that the baby fell into that very well and drowned.

I asked how long ago that was. He said, "Today."

He read the shock on my face and continued ... "That man you saw go there on the path. He grandfather. He go bury baby."

Such a tranquil scene that hid such a tragedy for the family and for the village. And a jeep came for me. I got in and rode away, still stunned about the toddler's death, knowing that a few rows of blocks around that well would have prevented the death and maybe others.

Combat didn't allow me to dwell on the infant for long, and the memory was buried for more than 4 decades until my fingers revealed it today. How many more tragedies were buried as was that baby, with no recognition, with no one who cares, with no tears or grief, just put away to come spilling out in unexplained anger or rage.

[Rio_]

I have no experience with combat, so I don't know if I can be any help, but regarding what you said here:

</font><blockquote><div id="quote"><font class="small">Quote:</font>
My war is long gone. I'm not supposed to be affected like this. *tears

</div></font></blockquote><font class="post"> The first post I made in the PTSD forum I was thinking along the same lines, and the first reply I got back told me "There is no 'should' in what bothers us". Don't let anyone tell you you're not supposed to be affected - it's completely understandable; you've been through a lot!

Hope you feel better soon. (((Troy)))

[Troy]

Of course, you are of help here. You've experienced the same effects from ptsd. I'm glad we have a name for it.

I really appreciate your feedback and encouragement. It means a lot.

Your tag line is beautiful. "and she dances on the sand."

[Rio_]

Thanks, Troy - I'm glad I could help.

</font><blockquote><div id="quote"><font class="small">Quote:</font>

Your tag line is beautiful. "and she dances on the sand."

</div></font></blockquote><font class="post"> Thanks! It's from a song by Duran Duran, called "Rio". It's one of my favourites by them.

[Troy]

Thanks, Rio ... I'll look for that song. For many years now, I've listened to music without understanding many of the words. Some kind of hearing loss causes me to miss the first letter of words if there is background noise, lol, and with music, the instruments are always in the background .... therefore, many words sound the same if you take off the first consonant (sound). And a lot of the vowels get scrambled. therefore, I enjoy the effect but don't catch the words... Another result of the many combat explosions and loud noises.

T.

[Rio_]

No problem - it's on Youtube, you can see the video

. (It's very 80s. ) Sorry about your hearing loss. My grandpa fought in WW2 and his hearing was damaged as well...not sure exactly what happened, but it was something to do with shrapnel. The lyrics to "Rio" are here - not quite the same as hearing them, but it might be easier to pick them out when you know what to listen for?

[Magellan4348]

Hey

[bebop]

hi and welcome

[(JD)]

Troy, those who care to understand, will in some way.
Though you have many experiences, many memories, as you go through them and sort through them and reason with them, if that's the right word, your brain will begin to learn what to do with them.

After a while, brain will begin sorting and filing the memories on it's own, having relearned the process.
You won't have to remember every event, every child nor every village, because they will slowly become as memories
are meant to be: out of consciousness and not bothering until we decide to pull them out, dust them off, peruse them and then put them away again. It's a long road, but well worth the traveling.

[vetswife]

I personally do not know what you are going through, but I love someone who does. I feel so bad that you or any other soldier has to go through this. I've always had a soft spot for soldiers (I guess that's why I married one). I don't think to many people realize the side effects of war. I want to know I acknowledge your pain, I know it's real, and wish I could take it away. I don't even know the right words to say to make you feel better. Take care of yourself.

[BalishBun]

gosh, yes children in war and such are that much harder to put out of your memory. They havent gotten to see the world, they barely get a chance to live. The length of their life is uncertain. It must be tough, I am so sorry for your struggle.

[Troy]

Children caught in the cross fire are just as dead as any soldier, but what a shame ... what a shame that they were used as shields by the enemy, firing at us from inside a village, knowing that tons of ammo would rain down on the few huts.

What a shame

I am sorry

[bebop]

yes it is a shame. troy you did what you were instructed to do. I know many many times in vietnam even the children would shoot at you. it is called survival. you did what you had to do. please don't keep beating yourself up. ((((hugs))))

[Troy]

Did you ever hear the sound of incoming artillery? It's such a simple thing to make the radio call. Soldiers miles away load the cannons and pull the lanyard. Sometimes you hear the guns fire before you hear the rounds coming in.

And you wait there with eyes glued to the target. The round explodes. Another radio call to adjust the fire, and the command
"Fire for Effect" .... ugh ... then houses blow up, the ground trembles, smoke erupts from both the shells and the target.

And if that isn't enough, there's plenty more artillery where that came from ... repeat

What a shame
I am sorry

[Zorah]

((((((((((Troy))))))))))

It is a shame, but not your shame, you did what you had to do.
So sorry you have to live with these memories,
May you find peace !!!

[Troy]

(Sorry it's long, but I needed to tell someone)

So, there was this patrol, 10 soldiers moving silently through the jungle on a small path.

It's surprising how open a jungle is. The growth is all in the tree tops, very little undergrowth because the sunshine is blocked out by the double and triple canopy tree tops. It's dark in there compared to out in the open, but you don't have trouble walking ... not a lot of vines and bushes like in the thickets that surround a swamp.

The mountainous trail was steep in places and the 50 # packs were just part of the load. Keeping weapons at the ready was impossible as the team held onto roots and limbs to keep their balance.

Everything was wet, always wet on the jungle floor, rain, dampness, mildew, rot - a smell that stays with you long after you're away from there ... and then a whiff of a camp fire, unseen smoke in the air. The enemy was near.

Hyper alertness as we listened for sounds of the enemy, nothing, and no sounds in the jungle also means danger. It means that the animals sense ppl and have gone silent.

Smoke and silence ... hyper listening, hyper watching, hyper smelling. We couldn't smell our own dirty selves, no bath in a week, no uniform change after living in the jungle alone, sweat, urine, feces, blood, mud, we could only smell the camp fire smoke.

Stop in place. Spread out. Take up defensive positions. Study the terrain. Study the map. Radio in our location in case we need help. Make sure artillery knows where we are. Drink some water. Check our weapons. Make sure safeties are on so we don't fire by accident. Make sure grenades are still hanging in the right place. And ... smell the air. Don't lose that smell - easy to lose the smell as your senses get used to it ... keep it in focus. Radio headquarters and let them know where you're going. Ask them to get cobra gun ships ready to respond.

Huddle with the assistant team leader, make a plan. Crawl to each soldier and let him know whats going on.

OK - silent signal to everyone, saddle up, let's go -- pick up your ruck sack and sling it onto your back, adjust the straps, hand signals tell the point man to move out - stay off the trail, move from tree to tree -- follow the smell of the smoke.

The almost imperceptible breeze comes from the east, but the direction changes often, wait for it to come back and confirm that the smoke is coming from that direction. Is that it? Do you smell it?

Hand signals, move out, everyone stays spread out to give an ambush a smaller target. The smell is stronger this time, we'er going the right direction.

Time passes slowly. Sweat runs into my eyes and down my back. Should drink more water, but I'm too hyper about the enemy to think about that. The guy to my right front stops to take a leak with his rifle held at waist level, ready to shoot, hyper hyper vigilent. Doesn't even button his trousers when he's finished, buttons are probably broken anyway. For some soldiers, it's better to empty their bladder before going into battle or there's a chance you'll be wet when the gunfire dies down.

Slowly, slowly, climbing along the side of a steep slope, some GI's higher, some lower. Smell the smoke. Seems like it's just above this rise.

And the point man signals to stop. Everyone crouches or takes cover behind a tree, but no one drops to the ground to rest. Everyone is focused on the point man even if they're looking outward and to the rear. He signals for the team leader to come forward. No one else moves. No one drinks from canteen. No one takes a leak.

From this high point, we can see into a small jungle valley, almost dark in the gloom, but we can see the smoke rising from a small cooking fire. They don't know we are above them. They have no guards posted.

The suspense is great for the rest of the team as they wait for word from the team leader and they are relieved when they see a smile on his dirty face.

The smoke comes from a fire in the center of three huts. Two women tend the fire and two children play nearby. There are no men in sight. Either they are hidden in the trees waiting for us to make a move. The team leader smiles at the tranquility of the scene but he knows the danger.

Radio ... whispered call to headquarters to let them know situation...helicopter gun ships stand by...artillery stand by, calculate the range and ammo required for our location.

We don't break up the patrol. 10 soldiers is a small unit.

If we walk toward the village, the women will run into the jungle. There is no intention of firing on the women or the huts. If any men are in the huts they're asleep or wounded already. Let's circle around the village and see if there are any guards or outposts.

A long while passes while we recon the area. And we find nothing. Either the men are inside or they are away. We don't have enough men to surround the village, so we'll approach from a direction where we can take cover behind trees as we came into the village.

As expected the women grabbed their children and ran into the jungle when they saw us coming. One fire team of 5 soldiers stayed on the side of the mountain, behind some trees and rocks to cover the rest of us who walked up to the huts.

A quick look in each of the three hut revealed that no one else was there. A longer search for tunnels showed that this was just a small village - probably where VC lived, but they were away at the time.

Radio call to headquarters ... no good. Radio wouldn't work from down here in this deep valley -- report later. Let's go.

Want to look find the women and question them? No - what would we learn? We'd spend hours finding them (if we did find them) and how would we communicate without an interpreter? And we don't want to kidnap them back to the rear area to get more of nothing. Leave them alone.

Guard our rear as we pull out of the village. Join the other soldiers above us. Watch the rear and carefully find out way out of the valley. Hope they don't follow us now that we've reversed roles.

The smell of smoke grew faint as we crossed into the next valley, reported to headquarters what we'd found, argued with higher officers as to why we didn't try to capture the women (and kids, for crying out loud).

Days later, one of the headquarters soldier reported that the village was marked on the map and that artillery had been firing rounds into that valley in a program known as I &amp; H -- Interdiction and Harrassment -- Can you imagine?

So a peaceful patrol, hypervigilent and nerve wracking in a routine sort of way, turns into a ptsd memory, knowing that I was part of the I&amp;H and not knowing whether anyone was ever injured because of our discovery.

Guess what I think of when I get a faint smell of camp fire smoke?

[bebop]

I think we all have reminders/triggers. one for me is a perfume my mom used. gosh it was nasty and when I smell that I think of her and the abuse. ((((hugs))))