Skip to main content

Battle scars~


The phone rang last night, a call for my husband, who wasn't home.

The caller, Al, said he'd been in Officer's Candidate School in Quantico, Virginia with Bruce in 1967, then Basic -- five months of training after OCS. They never saw each other again; these were Vietnam War years.

Al had been looking up former platoon members to notify them of an upcoming reunion at Quantico in May. I gave Al our address, and Bruce's email address.

Then, never being one to miss an opportunity to chat, I floated a thread. He grabbed it and we were off, two of the most unlikely people to be speaking so intimately: a Nam vet and the wife of a Nam vet.

The wives talk, we are desperate to talk-- we have battle scars of a different sort-- but the vets are closed like clams. But Al was not, anymore.

I said, "Actually I didn't know Bruce during those years. I'm his second wife. I know very little about that time. He doesn't talk much about it."

"I understand that. I don't either. Or I didn't," he said.

"Didn't? You do now, though?"

"I'm trying," Al said.

He went on to outline his life since he returned: jobs, kids, retirement. He, too, was in a second marriage. His wife is a decade younger than him, the gap between Bruce and me.

"I have PTSD," he said. "I'm getting treatment. It's a long tough climb out." He acknowledged that it was tough for his wife too.

"Sounds like my house," he said repeatedly after comments I made.

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder used to be called shell shock or battle fatigue. Nobody studied it or listed symptoms or offered help back during WWII. Now they do.

But one has to reach for the hand.

Bruce won't. Or hasn't yet.

"Can you have PTSD and seem perfectly normal, have a good job, be productive, respected, and all that?" I asked Steve.

"Definitely," he said.

Through the years of my marriage to Bruce, I've occasionally looked up the symptoms of PTSD, searching for a reason, THE reason for Bruce being BRUCE, as David says.

"Mom, That's BRUCE," he'll say, when I get upset, frustrated or just plain damn angry at his way: closed, uncommunicative, irritable, easily angered.

"I'll talk to him," Al said.

He called back tonight and I heard them talking, laughing, catching up on the forty-one years since they'd seen each other. Neither could picture the face of the other, but that didn't matter. They understood a shared experience, and they understood what it did to them, how it made them who they are today. For better or worse. For better and worse.

Maybe the reunion will be good for Bruce. Maybe it will be good for me.
~~~~~
SYMPTOMS OF COMBAT STRESS REACTIONS AND PTSD

1. RE-EXPERIENCING
Continuing to think about combat or feeling as if one is still in combat

2. AVOIDANCE AND NUMBING OF EMOTION
Not wanting to discuss the traumatic event, feeling detached from others, feeling shut down emotionally

3. AROUSAL
Having a hard time relaxing or feeling “on guard,” feeling jumpy, unable to sleep, unable to concentrate, excessive concerns about security, getting angry easily.

(From the National Center for PTSD)
~~~~~
You can't say that civilizations don't advance, however, for in every war they kill you in a new way. ~Will Rogers

Comments

Janice Thomson said…
Oh I so hope the reunion will help - both of you too. I understand how hard it must be for Bruce. In boot camp you are taught to be tough. It become such an innate thing that after war it becomes difficult to know you need help and even more difficult to ask for it. It also is difficult for the spouse standing by unable to help, unable to reach the man she once knew. War is such a tragedy in so many ways. You are in my thoughts always Ruth.
Wanda said…
What a wonderful post, Ruth. You write with such feeling I get pulled in by every word.
I think this sounds like a wonderful reunion for all.
Jo said…
There was a segment on Good Morning American recently about vets and PTSD. I would imagine it's very common. I had a good friend who was a vet from the Vietnamese war. He lived in California, but he moved to Canada because of the way he was treated at home, just for having served his country in Vietnam. He, too, had PTSD.

And now you guys will have another round of young men (and women) coming back from that horrible, ghastly war in Iraq. When will it stop?
Unknown said…
I'm sure the reunion will be very emotional for Bruce, but it sounds like something he really needs. My heart goes out to him and all veterans struggling with PTSD.
raine said…
What a heartfelt and personal post. Thanks for sharing. I hope it is a wonderful reunion.
Barbara said…
Those of us who weren't there can never understand the memories these soldiers continue to carry with them.
Ruth L.~ said…
Thank you all for listening, or reading as it were, and for your support.

Popular posts from this blog

Cancer is the asshole~

Today was the first time in a long, long time that I’ve called Bruce an asshole—and the first time since his cancer diagnosis. How can you call some one with cancer an asshole? After all, cancer patients don’t feel good--they’re dealing with a deadly disease, there are all sorts of worries, frustrations, and side effects and changes to their bodies, quality of life issues... and all the other little quirky symptoms that I only find out about about when Bruce tells his nurse. I’m pretty patient and understanding by nature, and all the more so now when he vents the inevitable “ cancer anger ” a little (or a lot). Today he got impatient and snippy, frustrated that we couldn’t merge our iCalendars—he hates when technology goes awry. Who doesn't? For him, it's one more thing out of his control. He started to tell me what I’d done incorrectly in the attempt to merge, and kept cutting me off when I tried to show him what I did...which, by the way, was corre...

For Alice~ She's home!!!!!!!

What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson Sometimes it's all about knowing that loved ones and friends stand behind you, knowing that support is there on the down days, the worry days, the days when you feel off-center, out of sync, bedraggled emotionally, and in pain, but knowing all the while that you're not alone. You're not alone... Alice is an online friend--she lives in Hawaii-- who belongs to the writer's workshop that I do. We've only "met" online, but those who have online friendships know that they can be just as strong as those in-person relationships. Alice was hit by a car while walking, and is in the rehab phase of things. She's working to regain mobility after a broken pelvis, a broken arm, and a broken nose. It's scary to realize how, in the blink of an eye, life can lurch and our plans for a time are displaced by survival and healing. We...

A Continuum: the sands of time...

Time is like a handful of sand, the tighter you grasp it, the faster it runs through your fingers. Anonymous My 20’s: That runner’s high! I love it! I feel like my feet are six inches above the pavement and I could just keep running and running forever. I stretch my runs longer and longer for pure pleasure until I just have to turn back--reluctantly. I’m empowered and kind of in awe of my energy. My 30s: My pregnancy decade. Three kids. I jog behind a stroller with the firstborn; walk with a toddler while pushing a stroller with the second born; walk slowly with my third, stopping so he can drop pebbles down the drain or pat the doggie.   I go on occasional walks or slow jogs on weekends or days when my husband is home with all three kids. But I often choose to nap. My 40s: My oldest babysits for thirty minutes so I can go out for a walk. I call it my “by-by walk.” “Mommy’s going for a by-by walk,” I say to soothe my youngest, who c...