Wounded rant

This is an excerpt from a narrative I am working on. I am establishing a separate “rant” page where these will go in the future. For now, I vent here. I began this particular rant years ago and have been adding to it regularly. It opens doors to many other topics: vet suicide rate, VA bureaucratic bullshit, science deniers and other topics I will get to some day.

Wounded

What astounds me today is how we throw away the combat veteran after his service is over. No one, I mean absolutely no one, could be subjected to the combat experience of our last two wars and not be drastically changed. In my war we knew the exact date we would go home. Each individual had his own schedule and the unit was there for the duration.

Now we send these men into a nightmare and if they make it back, we do it again, and again. They become part of a unit that does everything together. Train, deploy, fight and return to train until they deploy again. The men in that unit form a bond stronger than anything they have known before. The military method of striping you of any previous identity then rebuilding an identity with the unit as your family builds militarily strong fighting units. But what happens when you go through hell with your new family and then are separated.

My first exposure to this new phenomena was when a Bill Toppa’s son-in-law lost a leg in Afghanistan. We watched on line as he recovered in Walter Reed. His wife and two kids were put up nearby and they even set her up with a web site that would keep all of us up to date with his progress. Which was long and hard. We all saw his recovery, which was heroic and heartwarming. It wasn’t until much later, when I started to work with other Iraq and Afghanistan vets that I realized what he was going through. First there’s the survivors guilt. Your friend and team member sitting next to you died and you didn’t. Everyone felt that they had a responsibility for the safety of the rest of the team. To survive when others didn’t was a failure. Second is the separation from the unit. You have your injuries to deal with but they must go on without you; and some of them will die. If that isn’t enough to deal with; wait, there’s more.

The military takes care of their wounded. The goal is to rehabilitate them well enough to return to duty. That desire to get back to your new family is strong, the soldier needs to get back to the guys and prove himself all over again. He needs to know that they trust him again and don’t blame him for the past. There are double amputees that lost limbs in two separate deployments. Yes, you have what we called a million dollar wound (because it sent you home) and they send you back again. When I heard that, I felt like I was reading Catch 22 part 2.

If you can’t be rehabilitated back into your old job, the military graciously gives you a medical discharge. To cover our asses we have them fill out a questionnaire asking them if they have PTSD before we send them back. What a fucking joke.

Their lives will never be the same. Their shortened life expectancy will be filled with pain and frustration. You think we have a hard time with aging, try walking a mile in their prosthetics.

WE OWE THEM! They should have a Mercedes and a mansion on the river if that is what they want. We have the resources; what we lack is the proper amount of guilt for what we have done to them. I get extremely pissed off when I see the TV ad begging for donations to wounded warriors. I assume that those organizations are preforming noble acts helping our wounded warriors, but they shouldn’t exist. The fact they do shows how badly our society has failed them. If you think we are doing all we can, Google veteran suicide rate.

There should be a seamless transition from military duty and the VA. But instead, when you are discharged you are handed a booklet telling you all about your rights as a vet. No one explains what you have to do to get benefits. For example, if I were to go into the VA and be diagnosed with type II diabetes (a diagnosis which would automatically quality me for benefits since I’m on the Agent Orange Registry), you’d think that would automatically trigger a claim for compensation. The problem is that in order to provide patient privacy, the medical services part of the VA doesn’t share patient information with the Compensation and Benefits section. You must file a claim before any consideration can be made. There are plenty of vets out there receiving medical treatment for conditions qualifying them for compensation and they don’t realize it.

Benefits are awarded only after the VA’s Compensation and Benefits section makes their own determination. You must go through another diagnosing process with their own doctors. And I guarantee it will be a long and frustrating process.

The VA seems to think their primary mission is to prevent fraudulent claims. While I agree, that is important, their approach alienates the already pissed off vet. Understand that it is very very hard for the vet to ask for help. It is an admission of failure in their eyes, and everyone of them will say “There are lots of guys worse off than me and I don’t want to take away from them”.  The VA has developed a system that is so complicated that you must have an advocate to navigate it. Those advocates are registered with the VA as VSOs (Veterans Service Officers); some work for other government agencies, in Oregon it is the county Veterans Services office. The DAV provides free VSO services to any qualified vet. There are many independent VSOs who are qualified professionals that donate their services. The VSOs are the unsung heroes here. They usually have an overwhelming case load and they spend their time dealing with stressed out vets and the VA bureaucracy. Talk to any vet that currently receives benefits and they will tell you that they could never have done it without their VSO.

Since the Civil War the politicians have turned their backs on our veterans. I don’t understand it but it continues today.

OK, rant over. Breathing deeply and leaning back in the chair. Weather more that perfect here; highs in the 70s lows in the 40s.

Stay warm.

About

So far I've reached acceptable proficiency at the following, in chronological order: Silversmith, infantryman/door gunner, helicopter pilot, fireman, carpenter, residential contractor, FAA Air Traffic Control Specialist and crotchety old retired guy. Currently, I'm learning to fly again and that is what this is all about. 7/7/2020 edit: As I have had the opportunity to reflect (old people do that a lot) on my actual proficiency level at the above occupations, I feel adjustments are in order. The term "acceptable" depends on the observer, their own proficiency and experience level. Acceptable to me might be woefully deficient to the master. I think it would be more accurate to claim that I have earned a living wage at all of these occupations but never got rich. Actually, I feel that I have gotten rich at the last one. I have what I need and am profoundly grateful for all of it. The future looks bright indeed, as I have learned to fly again. For that I have all of you to thank. Thank You!

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