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I'm Don.
I served in the Army in Vietnam, 1st Cavalry.
We were flying escort for a convoy, and we witnessed a
jeep that hit a mine and blew up.
So we circled, came down, and we picked up the bodies.
Our ship picked up one, and the guy didn't have
any arms and legs.
That flight with him laying there on the floor was--
I'll never forget it.
That was the longest flight I've ever flown.
We all had to pull certain jobs.
One of them was take the deuce and a half
out and dump garbage.
Most of it was like ammo boxes and junk.
We would just throw it off the truck.
And I hit this kid.
I think he was about seven years old.
I tore a gash in his leg with a board I threw off.
I jumped off and went down and got him.
He was mad, but he was also bleeding to death, so I put a
tourniquet on his leg and wrapped as much stuff around
as I possibly could.
We got to an ARVN stop.
They didn't want to see this kid.
They just didn't want him.
So we said, all right, let's go, we've got to find Army.
And we did.
We found a medic.
I said, this is a kid.
I said, I hurt him.
I've got to fix it.
Bandaged his leg up, and they put him in another jeep.
And I never saw him again.
I don't know if he's alive or dead, but I hurt him pretty
bad, and that one always got me.
I just thought I killed somebody who
didn't deserve it.
You hear the stories of people spitting on Vets,
and they did it.
It wasn't a lot, it was enough that it wasn't pretty.
And I just sort of blocked things out.
I got home, got married two weeks later, got a job after I
got married, and sort of went on with life.
I didn't have an immediate reaction.
I just blocked it out.
I didn't want to remember anything.
I didn't even think about it.
And if stuff came on the TV or whatever, I just turned it
off, changed channels, wouldn't watch.
It didn't hit me until 9/11, and I didn't know it.
It was several months later.
My wife finally says, you have to go to the doctors.
And she took me to the doctors.
Family physician said, you're going to go to the VA, or I'm
going to take you.
So I did.
I went, and I was diagnosed with PTSD.
And my first reaction was, why now, and why
so many years later?
And they just said something set it off.
Something hit a nerve and brought it back.
That's when it really started for me, and it was hard.
I mean, I started getting into alcohol, drank a lot,
withdrawn, very depressed.
To this day I wake up in the morning and wonder why.
Just what is there to do?
Going to sleep was very tough, very, very hard.
I was afraid to sleep.
I was afraid I wouldn't wake up.
And I don't remember all the dreams. I don't remember all
of what happened.
And then when I do get up and around, I just
don't want to remember.
So I just don't bring them back.
I was angry.
I was miserable.
I was miserable to live with.
And I didn't know it.
I didn't even know I was doing this.
I didn't have a clue.
And it was just this constant anger.
And I couldn't put my finger on it.
I didn't know what I was mad at.
It was just constant outbursts for absolutely no reason.
And some of it I don't even remember doing.
She would tell me about it.
She said I'd wake up at night.
I actually hurt her one night, and she said I punched her.
Now that scared me.
That was after we saw the doctor, before
I got to the VA.
That hurt more than anything, to hurt the woman I love, the
woman I spent all these years with.
I was out at a VFW meeting.
It was a state convention, and the State Surgeon came up and
tapped me on the shoulder.
And he says, I want to get you some help.
And he sent me to a doctor in Albany, a VA doctor.
This guy was amazing, and I was treated by him
for over two years.
It was just an amazing thing.
And she went with me, so she went through this with me.
And she doesn't understand, couldn't understand why the
outbursts, why the sweating, why the fear.
I wouldn't stand in a line, and I don't
like to be in crowds.
It's tough.
But she's the one that made it happen.
She did make it happen.
I wouldn't be here without her.