Cross-posted at My Left Wing
We'll call him "Evan" and he'll be staying with me for a while, until he gets settled here in Seattle again. At least I think he will be, he's supposed to be. He's somewhere in Mexico right now, most likely drinking himself silly.
I love the dude dearly, he's twisted, aggro, and was so giddy at the prospect of going to war, he filed to go active from reserves back in '02. Always told him he was crazy, but it never did any good. He was always telling ME he was crazy.
His deployment into Iraq was a little unusual in itself. Here it is, in his own words:
I had degenerative disk disease in multiple disks in my spine. I was given a profile stating that I was not wear Body Armor, Kevlar Helmet, Boots, a Weapon or any-thing else that would put pressure on my spine. Limit use would have my left side to go numb, prolonged use could make it permanent.
The Commander said I was going so I went.
Usually, crazy like a fox. But sometimes, just plain insane.
(OK to repost his complete comments and use as you will. Never WAS a big fan of intellectual property rights or anything. hehe)
When we met, I was dating his ex, who he'd still held a candle for. We were out in the mountains with a big group of people camping for a weekend. The first night, he was in his cups good, as usual, and grabbed me and said "Let's go have a talk and bring the whiskey". Our presently, mutual ex, got the look of a dear in headlights at this point.
This is the guy, after all, that bit off a dude's ear in a street fight a couple months before. He's a scrapper, with a family history that's long and sorted. He's been on the ropes a time or two, but mostly has kept it together down the years.
So we head off into the woods and he sits me down. Admittedly, I was a little nervous. I've been in tumbles and on the street quite a bit and can handle myself, but honestly, this guy is intimidating. Barrel-chested, boisterous, and VERY assertive personality. Aggressive was a term invented for Evan, if there was ever an inspiration for the term.
He takes the bottle and throws back a good 2 swallow throw, hands it to me and tells me to hit it, I'm going to need it. Then he winks at me, fucking WINKS at me, and starts shouting all sorts of insanity. "I'm going to kick your ass, you're dating my girl!" starts making noise and banging around, not coming near me at all. The whole time, with a cheshire grin like I've never seen.
After a little of this, he quiets down and explains. Seems he was fond of the idea of getting under her skin and making her sweat. Tells me he'd been listening to her tell him about me and had been observing me in the hours before we actually sat down and met, and as much as he'd love to actually hammer me, he couldn't, cause he knew I was a good guy and it wouldn't be right.
We've been brothers of a sort ever since. Now that neither of us is dating this girl, we've made a habit of meeting and messing with her that same way with whoever she's dating at the time we're around.
Since going to Iraq, he's been there and back, and in a constant struggle with the VA over disability and care. Been through TX and GA, always nearby an Army base to be near his pals in the unit when they're stateside. He went over and drove a truck from Kuwait all the way through to Baghdad right at the beginning of the war and was stationed all around Baghdad over the time he was there.
He's back, and busted up pretty good, but he can still function physically. Due to his injuries, he has somewhat random fits of vomiting. He's also been diagnosed with PTSD. Most of the specifics of what happened while he was there, have been confined to the stupid or obnoxious stunts him and his pals pulled over there. Or his antics due to his SERIOUS penchant for insubordination and disdain for self-righteous officers. The closest he's come to talking about any combat, was a night in a ditch listening to gun-fire.
He's changed, there's no mistaking it. I've seen him only once since he's been back, and only for a few hours at the bar at that.
Now I've never been to war, never in "combat" specifically, but I've been shot at before, I've seen the results and some of the worst that violence can do. I've lived in Detroit on 8 mile after all, though despite that, I know quite well, it's only a fraction of what some of these soldiers see much more regularly.
I'm seriously hoping I can handle him being here. Hope I can give what he might need from me. Take what might come. It won't be easy, I've no illusions about that. It's also a bit risky dealing with some of these guys coming back from war. I've read the stories, about the suicides, the instability. I have to trust him, I have to trust myself, and be ready to test my patience and fortitude.
But if there's anything I can do, something to give back, to "support the troops", it's this. If I really believe in what we're doing here, if I'm going to live it, THIS is how I'll do it. I owe it to him and all his pals. To every single one of them, to do what I can to keep them from falling so far in the despair of what's happened to them, they end up delusional on the street for the rest of their lives.
I made a promise to my father, a vet in his own right, that I'd never allow what happened to the 'Nam vets, happen again. Happen to the Iraq vets.
So this is what I'll do.
You all might consider doing the same if you're able. Don't leave them on the streets. Don't leave them alone to the demons they've been chained with.
Don't thank them for their service.
Don't apologize for them going over there.
Don't patronize.
Don't get all emotionally sympathetic.
Actions speak louder than words, words mean nothing when the hard rain starts falling, it means even less now that they're home.
Pick them up, dust them off, and carry them home, on your very own shoulders if you have to. Be patient and respect them, but never, NEVER pity them, no matter how injured. No matter how torn up.
I've heard it from many vets, that if they had to choose between their girlfriend, their wife, and one of their brothers from their unit, they'd stick with their buddy every single time. That when a guy is there, ready to take a bullet for you without thinking even once about it, there's no greater love.
Stand with them and let them be who they are. Remind them that what they've lived through, what they've suffered, what they've had to do, is not the ONLY thing that they are now. Stick with them no matter what, forgive them when need be. Be ready to step in front of a bullet for them, though in a more metaphoric, civilian sense. Be as much of a friend as you can be, just as their brothers in war have been, and they'll have something they need desperately when all is said and done.
They are men (& women), they are Americans and have a future where what's scarred them isn't all they have left. That they have us here at home, who are ready to welcome them home and remind them of the honor and dignity they have never left behind.
No matter how long the road they've seen, no matter how loud the gunfire, no matter what they've needed to do to see it through.
It's up to us to see THEM through now and THAT is how we will give them what they need.
Respect
Honor
Dignity
I only hope it'll be enough for my brother-in-arms Evan. I only hope it's enough.
UPDATE:
From the comments: Our very own KBowe linked us to his short informational on PTSD. I HIGHLY recommend it!
UPDATE 2:
Cleaned up grammar and spelling, as well as added further details and a bit of his own words on the circumstances of his deployment.