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War and Memories Survival With a Measure of Success von Clemmons, Gary (eBook)

  • Erscheinungsdatum: 05.11.2015
  • Verlag: BookBaby
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War and Memories

I was a Marine, 18 years old, when my company was dropped into the sweltering heat of Vietnam. We knew we were facing combat in a dense jungle where the enemy had an advantage. I prayed the Sixth Sense I realized I possessed when I was a young boy would help me survive my tour. The 60's was a decade of protests and the Vietnam War was 1on every list. I survived the war but when I got back to the States, I discovered my personal war wasn't over. I was just on a different battlefield called home. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder would not be a recognized disorder until 1980. Combat veterans returning from Vietnam struggled to overcome crippling fear and feelings for over 15 years before help and support was available. I could have been the poster boy for Veterans with PTSD. Three wives, obsessive behavior, paranoia, a total lack of trust in the human race. Work, music and golf were both the devil on my shoulder and my saving grace. They didn't help me save friendships and marriages but they got me through years of internal struggle. In 2011, I was invited to participate in a program called 'Freedom Bird'. I was part of a group of veterans who were flown to Washington, D.C. to visit the Vietnam Wall. I looked forward to the trip. I was sure I now had my life with PTSD under control. I was wrong! Every lie, excuse and obsession I had used over the years to hold myself together dissolved as I stood in front of that Wall. It was the worst and best thing that has ever happened to me. When I got back to Arizona, I made an appointment with a doctor at the VA hospital who specialized in PTSD. Now, when I look back at the man I was when I returned from Vietnam, I understand him better. I still enjoy work, music and golf but not to the exclusion of all else. I still check in with my VA doctor once a month and I know if PTSD starts trying to take over my life again, I have help and support. I have survived with a measure of success!

Produktinformationen

    Format: ePUB
    Kopierschutz: none
    Seitenzahl: 160
    Erscheinungsdatum: 05.11.2015
    Sprache: Englisch
    ISBN: 9781682220696
    Verlag: BookBaby
    Größe: 1545kBytes
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War and Memories

ONLY CHILD & FREE One of my earliest memories is in daycare, a word not that uncommon in today's society. A two income yielding household is almost a given in this 21st century. Back when I was a kid it seemed all of my neighborhood friends' moms were home, and living the lifestyle more common in the 50's & 60's than now. What is best for the child at a pre-school age has more than likely been publicly researched many times. If one of the parents can be home, the influences, and nurturing must yield a wide variety of good personality concepts. With that kind of early influence you would think a child might become more like the parent. I think my childhood was awesome even though at the time it might have been considered an unfortunate situation. In the early mornings I was shuffled off to a popular professional daycare that was filled with fun, excitement, and as many types of kids as you can imagine. The teachers were aggressive in making sure there was a full day of planned activities. They functioned with the mindset that the parents were going to hear all about it. Also, if the parents could afford childcare, then the teachers better be fairly good at what they did with and for the children. Mom had some money when we got to Phoenix, Arizona in the late 40's. She also had a great education and must have excelled in clerical work during her high school days. She had jobs with Title companies, Lawyers, and at one point was personal secretary to Frank Lloyd Wright. I remember being at his Biltmore residence occasionally on the weekends. Of course I only got the invitation if I dressed very smart, and promised to keep my manners in check the entire time. Frank was getting older then so my mom and others wrote down everything he said for future generations. Mom was fantastic at short hand to the point that she could do it with both hands at the same time when necessary. Sometimes Mom and I would hang out by the pool with Frank at the Biltmore Hotel in Phoenix. The crystal blue water taunted me, and the smell of spicy foods we were not accustomed would linger in the air. I became just amazed at how many waitresses, and other folks would be there to communicate with us during mom's shift. Frank would always give me a quarter at the end of the day. The next week I could buy candy bars for my friends at the neighborhood store. Independence was just a way of life for me. When I got home from school it was almost always just me. Changing from school cloths, grabbing my well broken in glove, and an extra ball, I would take off down the street to find a friend that could play. As the years rolled by the limits of my freedom were only challenged by how far I could go without getting lost. My friends and I often found ourselves three or four miles from home at 3 in the afternoon swimming in the canals. We would find hills to ride our bikes down, or build tree forts. It seemed there were just no limits. I can still see the sun breaking the horizon while sitting on the front porch waiting for the milkman. When he came I would say; Mom wants you to leave chocolate milk and some doughnuts. Then I would get the bounty all loaded up on the bike, and off I'd go to share my good fortune with buddies less fortunate down the street. One day while we were swimming in the canal I cut my foot really bad on a piece of glass. The other boys didn't really know what to do as I sat there and held the ghastly looking cut together. A lady walking by said "Oh my", what have you done?" I showed her and she said let me call you a cab to take you home. With a quivering lip behind tears I told her there was no use as no one was home. The yearning for the cool slightly green fast flowing canal water suddenly vanished. The blistering hot summer sun was baking my bare legs. The absence of breeze seemed to add to the discomfort of being st

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