Jerry and I hit it off right away. I was in country first, but the first day he walked through the hooch I knew I had a friend. He was tall and lanky and had this huge knife strapped to his leg. I can’t remember ever seeing him take it out of the sheath, but he never went anywhere without it.

We did everything together and it seemed like everyone would gather around my bunk at night and talk about the day. We drank, played cards, got in a ton of trouble together.  One night he talked me into tear gassing the  warrant officers…it was a riot.  After we threw about 6 “gassers” into their hooches we went back to our barracks and waited for the sirens to sound calling for a formation.  When they did Jerry and I were the only ones that had our gas masks on when we fell in line. Top, the first sargent, was screaming at us with tears rolling down his face and all we could do was laugh.

After the war Jerry called me one day and said, “Hey Chancellor, what are you doing?” I said not much and he said good Jerry Wayne (his son, named after the two most important people in his life…Jerry and John Wayne)  and me are going to come up for awhile. I said that’s great I would love to have you and Jerry Wayne. But what he didn’t tell me was the police were looking for him because of some type of domestic violence claim by his exwife and that he was kidknapping his son and bringing him to Indiana. After a couple of weeks Jerry went home and things got straightened out.

When we flew in Vietnam Jerry and I always kept in contact via the radio. We were not suppose to use it but we did. Jerry’s door gunner was named Lively. I think Lively was from Ohio. I’m not really sure right now, but it doesn’t matter.  Jerry’s Aircraft Commander was named Sue. No one knew his real named we all just called him Sue.  One day they were flying re-support mission somewhere in the central highland when they went into a valley for something. Again I don’t remember why, but I’ll never forget what happen then.  They started receiving fire from the side of the mountain. The fire was coming  down from above them so they could not return the fire because if they would shoot up they would have shot the rotor blades of the helicopter . They were sitting ducks.  Once they got up Jerry began to return fire. After a few secounds he called to Lively. When his door gunner didn’t respond he immediately left his position in the ship and went to him.  Lively had taken a round down through his neck, through his chest and the round exited right below the ribs.  We were only taught the most basic of medical training and the only thing Jerry could do was to put compresses on the wounds and pray…and that is what he did…for a few secounds. They began recieving fire again. What was Jerry to do? If he left Lively he would surely die. If he stayed with him they could all die. He went back to his M-60 machine gun and started returning fire, possibly saving the lives of the crew.

When I got back to camp Jerry was no where to be found. He had been back about an hour before I got there  so I thought he would be sitting around waiting for me. When I couldn’t find him anywhere I went to the shower that was outside. There was Jerry still in the shower, still in his cloths, leaning against the wall on his hands letting the water flow down his head. When I first got there I didn’t say a word. I just stood waiting for him to recognize me somehow. To look at me or talk to me,anything at all.  I just waited.  When I couldn’t wait any longer I asked him ” Are you OK?”  He didn’t say yes or no, he just said “It won’t come off!”   I didn’t understand and said “What?” He again said “It won’t come off!” then he mumbled  “The blood, Lively’s blood, it won’t come off.” I got Jerry out of the shower and back to the hooch.  After a couple of days he seemed OK, like everything was back to normal, but it wasn’t, I knew  it would never be OK again.

Jerry and I kept in contact until he died in his early forties.  No one knew what caused his death. He had some type of growth in his fore head,  and a terrible alcohol probem, and would get into a little trouble once in  awhile but nothing serious. He worked at TVA in Kentuckyand loved his family very much. His son JerryWayne asked me to speak at the wake. It was difficult. I talked about the things that matter most to Jerry,  honor, courage and family. I talked about how we survived Vietnam together. I knew without a doubt that he had my back, and I hope he felt the same way. Jerry was a good guy and I often wonder how his life would have turned out without Vietnam.  There were several guys we flew with at the funeral. Sue was there,  Jerry’s new door gunner after Lively named Rodgers was also there.  Sue had this huge tatoo of our unit on his arm. Rodgers  stayed drunk for the three days. I was there.  We weren’t kids anymore. We were suppose to be out there making a difference in the world, working hard to make a living and raising our families. But for some it didn’t  turn out like that, for some the nightmares of war are as real today as they were 30 years ago. I hope Sue and Rodgers are OK today wherever they are.

How do you celebrate Memorial day?  Do you go to a parade, or maybe a picnic, or perhaps  silently reflect your feelings only to yourself? However you do it doesn’t really matter. What matters is that we all do it. It’s not just a 3 day sale somewhere. It is to honor those that have fought and died to keep us free.

Several years ago when my wife Regina and I were just getting to know each other she suggested we take her boat out on the lake for some fishing, and I relunctedly agreed.  While we were fishing along the banks of the lake a Memorial Day parade came passing by. I’ll never forget the guilt I felt that day. Here I was enjoying the life they gave me without taking even an hour to show my repect for what they had done.  When I told Regina how I felt she promised me that we would never not honor our fallen Veterans again, that  Memorial Day would always be special to us, and it has been.

I am a varsity softball coach in the town where we live and today starts our sectional play.  Our first game is today at 10:00am. So I’m going to miss the parade, and the services we have here in town, but  it doen’t mean that I won’t honor our fallen veterans. I’m to taking my Purple Heart and Heroism Medal with me to the game. I am going to ask two of the team leaders to put these medals in their bat bags and carry them with them during the day.   I hope this will influence them for the rest of their lives.

Bob asked me to help Marty. He slept in his van, had no insurance, and hadn’t seen a doctor since leaving the military. Bob said ” Jim you know the ropes do you think you can help get him into the VA system?”  I had helped many people in the past, and the VA is there for us so I said sure I’ll do my best. Well Marty wasn’t sure he had a problem, afterall it was only when he drank that he had a problem at all…maybe he’ll just stop drinking for awhile. We all know that wasn’t gone to work but that was the first approach…and you quessed it, it didn’t work. So I started hanging out with them. I have been sober since 1982, so all I really did was sit and listen to Bob and Marty talk waiting for a chance to help. One day I saw some bandages on Marty’s forearm and asked him what happened. He said he cut his arm and work and I said OK…the first time…then it happen again and again.  When I asked Bob about it he said that sometimes  when things really got bad Marty would scratch, or cut his unit insignia on his arm.  One night Marty finally told me his story. He was on patrol in the jungles when someone in front of him tripped a wire. As the fight erupted he began to scream at his buddies and a body part flew into his mouth…it makes me sick to my stomach even today to tell that story, but that was Marty’s story, that was the very second that changed his life forever, and eventually killed him.

After that conversations I really wanted to help. And once I convinced Marty to go to the VA I thought things would get better. But they diagnosed Marty with an alcohol problem…not with Post Traumatic Stress. They wanted Marty to fix the alcohol problem first and then they would address the PTSD.  I’m not one to accept things I think are wrong so I stuck my nose right in there. ” The alcohol binges are brought on by the Vietnam experiences” I told them, but they didn’t listen. Instead they gave him drugs and told him to try and get his drinking under control.  The VA wanted Marty to go to  group sessions on PTSD with people he didn’t know…with doctors that didn’t understand, because they hadn’t been there.

Then one morning Bob called me and told me Marty was dead. He said he tried to do what I wanted, but it just didn’t work.  Marty go drunk, got all of his pills mixed up and overdosed. Is Marty’s name on the Wall in Washington?   NO…  Should it be?  absolutely!  Vietnam killed Marty, with a little help from me.

Here are the very simple definitions of PTSD

1. Acute..it is immediately after the trauma but also has early resolution to the problem, usually within 6 months.

2.Chronic…begins early but lasts much longer…chronic being the the key word here.

3.Delayed…this is the dangerous one…acute and chronic are reconized early but delayed can be months or even years after  trauma with no professional people to diagnose it

These are the basics of PTSD. Remember that PTSD is not restricted only to comabt veterans…it can happen to anyone who suffers a traumatic experience. It can affect people that have been involved in a automobile accident, or a flood, perhaps a rape, or brutal beating. I am sorry for anyone that has to relive a traumatic experience over and over again. But when you go to a forgien land to defend the rights and beliefs of this great Country you don’t go for a day, or even a week. In Vietnam we went for a year…365 days of trying to stay alive…trying to do your job and get back home…but rememeber it was for 365 days…not just one . Can you imagine being thrown around by a sunami fighting for your life for 9 or 10 months…wow! that could have a lasting affect on you.  Or maybe being in 200 automobile accidents when lifes are lost in one year…boy that would be tough to just shake off.

Next week I’m going to tell you about some Vietnam Veterans I have known.  I’ll start with a guy named Marty that when he drank he would carve his unit call signs into his arm. 

War is hell where there are no winners, only survivors.

PTSD is not as easy to spot as a broken arm, or a shrapnal wound. Some people don’t even believe it exists. One of my very best friends,  Tom Jones ,is a combat Marine who served in Vietnam.  He believes that PTSD is simply a crutch people use for an excuse. I can’t disagree with him that there are a portion of people that will blame everything that is wrong in their life on something besides themselves.  Some of Tom’s favorite phases are  ” Put your big boy pants on,”  or “Cowboy up!”  But when you sit down with him and talk about Vietnam there is a totally different side to him. He becomes a little quieter and emotional. Then when I ask him if he thinks Vietnam has had any lasting effects on him  he will say “Yes, how could it not!”  I’ve ask him if he ever thinks about Vietnam and he says, “ Not really,”  but you can’t hardly be around him without the constant reminders of Vietnam from the Marine license plate on the front and back of his truck to the ball mark that he uses to mark his golfball when we golf; it’s there everday.

PTSD, the constant reminder of war. Next week , the difference between acute, chronic and delayed Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

There is so  much to learn when you go to war, and there isn’t anyone there to teach you. Sure by the time I got there I already knew how to work on a helicopter  and breakdown my weapons…but what about the people of the country? What about the kids with no families just trying to survive…no one taught me anything about this…no one taught me how to tell the difference between the good guys and the bad guys…they just gave me a gun and told me what to do. This is the part of Vietnam that sometimes haunts me even today…the innocense of war… from the victors to the victims…there are no winners..only survivors.

About half way through basic they began to talk about Vietnam and how we were all going to die there if we didn’t pay attention to what they were trying to teach us. They said surviving Vietnam would be the hardest thing we would ever do, and they were right.

     The War? I didn’t know much about it. I knew we were in Vietnam and had people dying everyday…it was all over the news every night…but I was from a pretty tough place called Gary, Indiana where even today it’s known as the murder capital of the world…was I afraid…No…not then…but things would quickly change.  At the end of basic training at Fort Leonardwood, Missouri we were given our MOS. For those of you that have forgotten what MOS means it is Military Occupational Specialties.  It is a call sign for what you are going to do in the military.  Everyone was getting 11B which meant infantry…when the DI called my name he said 67N20. I jumped up and said, “Alright! I’m not infantry.” The DI said, “Shut up and sit down…67N20 is a door gunner on a helicopter.”  I was eventually assigned to the 119th Assault Helicopter Company and served in Vietnam from 1969 through 1970…A door gunner on a HU1H helicopter… how bad could it be…Flying in a helicopter sounded pretty cool…twenty year old kid that had no idea what was about to happen to him… going to be a door gunner with a life expectancy of 19 seconds in a fire fight… my life would never be the same.