New Omaha VA Hospital and Vietnam

On our local news today one of the main stories was how the Omaha VA needs to build a new hospital. That has been going for a very long time and seems to go backward rather than forward. It now appears that any type of remodel or replacement is years away from a decision. So what's new about that? Nothing. On the local station they interviewed a veteran who stated that this isn't Vietnam where they were drafted to go in. Were volunteering and are not getting service back from our Country. I cannot express my anger at this. A veteran is a veteran is a veteran. To make this worse, this comment is coming from a veteran. So, Vietnam Veterans aren't worthy or deserving as those who volunteered? Over 58,000 GI's lost their lives in Vietnam and I bagged many of them. There were also thousands upon thousands who were wounded. Vietnam Veterans were also treated poorly by many Americans during and after the war. Over the years you heard how that was changing, etc. This comment only proves nothing has really changed. It was just sad that the veteran didn't address that this VA hospital needed to be replaced so that it could provide services to all veterans who honorably served their Country. I'm proud I'm a Vietnam Veteran and part of a group of GI's who served their Country even when their Country didn't support them.

If I'm not Adopted I want to be....

I remember at a very young age I was with my mom and some siblings in our red and white 1955 Ford Station Wagon around 39th and Q street. I think my dad was in Cunningham's having a drink. I asked my mom if I was adopted and she laughed and said no. But I thought I was adopted. I didn't feel like I fit in even at this young age with my family. I then decided I wanted to be adopted and by Roy Rogers and Dale Evans. They adopted kids and maybe they would adopt me. I was going to send them a letter and ask them if the would adopt me. Crazy huh. Well, I'm in my sixties and still don't feel like I fit in, anywhere really. My views seem to be so opposite of my family, friends of the family, etc. And not helping it at all is my not ever being the real Mickey. I feel as if I have been everything but that and that brings great sadness. I think I've tried to be what people wanted or fit into the slot people thought I should be in and in doing that I have lost my identity or what would have been. So, who is the real Mickey? He is a good Catholic boy who prays all the time but doesn't feel you have to be in church to do it or bring attention to just how good a Catholic you are. He is painfully shy. He loves people, all people. One who really doesn't care if they are hispanic, black, gay, straight, Jewish, Baptist, etc. and believes the person inside is the person that matters. He believes in equal rights - the same equal rights for everyone. He believe in gay marriage - after all, it's only love and why can't people love whomever they want. In the end he'd rather be remembered as a good person and he did his best rather than the car he drove or the money in the bank. He believes a kiss is a kiss regardless of whether or not it is with a woman or a man except one has razor stubble and the other doesn't. He is extremely proud that he served in the Army and that it took him a long time to accept and realize it. He is a Vietnam Veteran and one who is so quilty that he lived and others who had more to offer the world were killed in action. He is also extremely proud of his service in Vietnam and what he did while over there and hopes that in some way he was able to touch someone's life. He is always for the underdog. He knows how mean and cruel people can be to others and has been on the bad end of it and knows how painful it is. He has crossed paths with people in his life and regardless how briefly he will always remember them such as the Ambulance drivers who picked him up from the MP shack and took him to Ton Son Knut air base and asked an MP to make sure he got on the plane to go home because he decided he could not go back to the World and leave my family who he loved. That same MP who kept an eye on him and as he walked up the stairs to leave smiled and wished him well. The MP who picked him up when he turned himself in from AWOL and who smiled and said he didn't think he'd be any trouble and didn't handcuff him. To the two guys he met in processing at Ft. Carson who saved him by their friendship and kindness. The same for Lt. Moudy and Sgt. Dawes, etc. Steve, when both away from home could become friends and share with each other the sexual abuse they encountered at a young age and establish a special bond that would last forever regardless whether or not they ever met again. You know, I make mistakes everyday but I hope I'm making them less and less and learning from them and becoming a better person and feel so sorry for those I may have hurt, not have been fair to, etc. I guess this is just a short list of who I am. After all, it's been 64 years in the making. But in the end I guess I'm Ok regardless of what others may think of my values or my views and it's time to let the real Mickey come out and greet the World.

Being Lonely

It's strange that you can be surrounded by people you know and family and be lonely but can be with strangers or just a real friend and feel like you have it all and feel happiness.

The quiet on the helipad at night.

Nights were scary as a kid and I suspect they were scary for most kids and I really hated collecting on dark streets an night as a paperboy. At times now I really like the night. My duty schedule was 7:00 p.m. to 7:00 a.m. It was very dark on the Helipad as the choppers brought in the casualties. The choppers did have the nose spotlight on coming in until landing and then it was shut off. They only had a very dim light on in the chopper that was turned on while taking out he wounded. There never seemed to be any noise as I waited on the helipad for the Huey to land. It was eerily quit standing there wondering what would be on the chopper. Would the wounded be on litters or just laying in the chopper? How bad would their injuries be. Will we be able to get them into the ER quickly, etc. And then I'd hear the distinctive Huey chopper noise in the distance getting louder and louder. I remember those nights and the quiet at times when I'm outside at night. I don't hear anything and am lost in my thoughts waiting for the sounds of the incoming chopper, the chopper pad, the choppers and most importantly the casualties.....always thinking of them wondering, always wondering if they made it, their families and always....always thinking of them not wanting them to be forgotten.

Norm

In 1971-1973 I was stationed at Ft. Carson. I was a mess coming back from Vietnam and now realize just how much a mess I really was. In an earlier post I wrote about meeting a couple guys while in-processing and how it really saved me at that time. About six months later I just really lost it and got into some trouble. At this time I was assigned to the training room. I had not been there long before this rough, gruff, young, GI came in just out of Boot Camp. I think his first words were "I didn't let them cut my hair off. There are guidelines and I told the Drill Sargent that I was not going to let them cut it off." Or something to that effect. I thought wow, I sure don't want to be around this guy. Well, as I have said in other posts, it's odd how you meet people and friendships are formed. I guess it's that your all away from friends and family and now those you serve with are now your family. Anyway, Norm and I became friends very fast and we spent all our off-duty time together. I found him to be funny, kind and caring. He always wanted to go to this mall to see this parrot at a pet shop. He would always say "That's some bird." He spoke of Modesto where he came from and how much he loved it and could not wait until he returned after his tour was completed. My small circle of GI's I hung around with all lived farther than Omaha from Colorado Springs. Over my time at Ft. Carson me and the small circle of GI's made many trips there for the weekend. We'd leave on a Friday night and get to Omaha on Saturday a.m. We'd then leave Sunday morning and get back to Ft. Carson on Sunday night. Kind of stupid as the speed limit was 55 and there was a gas shortage and it was hard to find late at night even along the interstate. Regardless, we made many trips, sometimes a couple weeks in a row. Norm was always on those trips and although the guys would split up with some of my brothers in Omaha, Norm and I always hung out together. One time we were riding around on a Friday night and Norm said "Let's go to Omaha." And with that, he headed for the interstate and off we went. (He happened to be driving my car.) I was so blessed and fortunate that he came into my life at that time. It helped keep me somewhat sane. A Sargent, also in the training room had reservations about him but this changed and he too found him a nice guy. Norm and I even helped the Sargent and his family pack up and get ready to move to a new Ft. The last time I saw Norm was about a week or two after I returned to NE after getting out of the service. He and another guy came back to spend the weekend in Omaha. I was so excited to see him. Norm was pretty adamant that moving back to NE and living at home would be a terrible idea. When he came back we had an argument and were shouting at each other in the basement of my family home. During this time another guy tried to calm us down and them my mom came down and asked me to read a label. She went upstairs and Norm started crying. He said moving back home and living with my family was going to kill me. They left the next day and I never saw and don't think I spoke to him again. You know, he was right. I had the opportunity to work with an organization in CO Springs and should have taken the job. Norm was right. Although it did not kill me it came close to it. I never forgot Norm and have always regretted not taking his advice, and why didn't try to contact him to contact him after he went back, etc. I tried a little over the last couple of years to search him out. Now it appears I have found him but it is too late. He apparently passed away at 29. I feel so devastated that I never got to see or speak with him again and that he is no longer here. It seems all I have done this weekend is think of him and cry. I wrote a letter to his sister and hope I hear back from her. I'm looking for something, perhaps some closure or to in some way say goodbye. I wish I could have told him he was right and just how much I cared for him. Hopefully there is a Heaven and I'll get that chance and be able to hang out with him again. I have always missed you Norm.

Suicide is forever....

Robin Williams, who was an extremely talented actor, committed suicide a couple days ago and there has been an outpouring of grief and sadness. There is also much is being said about him, his career and what he did for those who served in the Armed Forces. Based on all news accounts he suffered from substance abuse and greatly from depression which was something he shared in interviews. Unfortunately Shepard Smith with Fox News, Todd Bridges the actor and now Rush Limbaugh among others have come out with negative and inappropriate comments. I have personally witnessed many different sides of suicide. The failed side, the successful side and the impact it made to the families involved. Being a Catholic I was always taught it was a sin and you'd go to hell. I could not understand why God would send a person to hell if they committed suicide. Didn't He know that it just wasn't a "Gee, I think I'll kill myself." as if an afterthought? As time goes by in my life I have come to realize and understand more and more just how one must feel, their sadness, no hope for the future, confusion, that their life has no meaning, they are perhaps a failure, no one loves or will miss them and just how little control they may have, etc. And suicide is forever and sometimes one may forget that as they see actors in a movie and they kill themselves in it and the next week they are seen in another movie. This is especially dangerous for young people. Have seen suicide attempts, etc. in Vietnam and later in civilian life and now especially with those men and women returning from war I think that everyone, especially those in the media, or anyone else, needs to think about what they say. That person who committed suicide was a human being, a father, son, mother, aunt, uncle, daughter, brother, sister, etc. And their family will be forever changed by what happened and always wonder why and what they could have done to have stopped or helped that person. Instead of being so cruel and mean the media and others need only say that a person died and what a loss it is to lose them and how they were loved by their family and friends and that they will be forever loved and missed and our thoughts and prayers are with their family.

To make a difference....

I spoke with a person early last week on a high level regarding my PTSD and I ended up totally frustrated, confused, inadequate, etc. I blame myself as I'm the one who initiated the meeting/conversation. And for the last three weeks my mind has been overwhelmed with memories, confusion, thoughts of what it was and what could have been and what it is. Sometimes I get so fucking pissed off. I just want to blow. All this inside is just killing me and I'm so lonely and miss those special friends I served with. I want that back. I was not ready to come back from Vietnam. I thought I was but since I left on emergency leave a week or so before did not get a change to say my goodbyes, exchange address, etc. Not every duty station was filled with a ton of close friends but always that one you felt so close to I hurt so much having lost that. And I think everyone you served with was away from home and depended on each other and in a sense became a family. The guilt right now is overwhelming that I was not killed and I think it would have been best if I would have been. I look back at my life and other than the service, especially Vietnam, its so fucked up. I tried to be a good husband but that sure doesn't seem to be the case. I tried to be a good stepfather, paid all the bills, medical, trip to see dad and grandparents etc. and ended up with a step-daughter who disowned me and told me I'm not her father. Pretty much failed for my adopted daughter and son as well. Fuck, I tried to give them all what I didn't have growing up and ended up with kids who didn't learn responsibility and I'm so sorry and wish I would have raised them differently. Less trips, buy their own car, pay their own insurance, etc. Here I am, just turned 64 and retired but will probably need to find another job. Never good at money management and did poorly in school and wanted to give my kids everything. So, I didn't save for retirement. When I was force retired in 2003 I built our small dream house. Well, taxes weren't taken out of my distribution and with poor attorney advice I lost my new home and some furnishings, live in an apartment and just retired from a second job. So most of my monies I get go to pay back federal and state taxes that I was told the assets from the home sale would do. I'm also raising a seven year old disabled grandson who is just a beautiful little boy which brings its own issues like I don't have a home with a yard and he loves being outside, will I live long enough to see him through 19, will I be able to get monies aside for needs when I'm gone and find someone who will be there for him and make sure he is taken care of and his needs met. Know one will really ever know what I really went through, feel, etc. other than the Nut Doctor and Social Worker I have been seeing and then only at a higher level but they are smart and probably really know more than I think. I rarely, if ever, talk about Vietnam but the memories are always with me no matter what and in the last three weeks I have been hit harder than ever with memories in things people have said, smells, hurt by comments, etc. I've been so sad for so long. At night or when alone I cry, remember, wish and pray. I ask God what I have done that has been so bad that my life is like this. I think of a couple special friends and wish I was smarter and knew what was going on and I'm so sorry I didn't as my life could have possibly been different. Knowing everything I do I would go back to Vietnam. It is so much a part of me and I tried my best to "Make a Difference". I guess that is all one can hope for is to "Make a Difference" and just touch someone life. So many times I wish I'd have died in Vietnam and be among my brothers who I know are in Heaven but all I am able to do is pray for them and tell them I'm sorry they died and I wish it would have been me so they would have have come home, been with their families and lived a life that I hope would have been wonderful. All I can say is that I'm so sorry it was not me.

Seargant Dawes

I was thinking of people that crossed my path and how thankful I was that they did. One of those was Sargent Dawes. I had gotten in some trouble at my last duty station, Ft. Carson. Looking back I now realize what a mental mess I was but at the time I just didn't realize it or understand it. I was falling apart mentally and was just really lost. As a result of the trouble I had gotten into I was reassigned within my Company to Sgt. Dawes in the Training Room. I was so afraid of everything and everyone. I felt as if I was hanging on by a thread. When I went into the training room I met Sgt. Dawes. He was an older Sgt. who had a very quiet / different sounding voice which actually sounded as if something had happened to his throat causing this problem. (I seem to remember he had a scar on his neck.) I liked him from the very start. I noticed his quiet, soft spoken voice and his calm demeanor immediately. We talked some about the training room, what I would be doing, etc. It was hard not to feel at ease with him as he actually had a very calming effect on me. As the days and weeks moved on I began to feel like I'd make it through my tour, that the walls weren't crashing down on me and that I fit in as a part of this small group that consisted of me, Sgt. Vasquez and Sgt. Dawes. Sgt. Dawes even put me in for some type of recognition due to my performance and what I was doing. He told me it was denied because of the trouble I had been in and he felt it should have been approved. I soon realized that no matter how well I performed, that issue would always have a negative impact. Sgt. Dawes and another lifer who actually kind of scared me and who came across as a tough guy, talked to me. They told me that they felt I was given such harsh treatment for the trouble I got into because I was a Vietnam Vet. They told me how other GI's, and one in particular, who did the same thing I did but in a bigger way were only given an Article 15. The one particular GI actually received a suspended Article 15. I was court-martialed. They said they believed I was used as an example and things were harder for those who served in Vietnam and they were not treated as fairly. Just before getting out they both spoke with me again and the gruff Sgt. told me he tried to fix my records regarding the trouble I was in. That ended up being unsuccessful. I am so thankful my path crossed with Sgt. Dawes. I'm not sure I would have made it if it weren't for him. I can still see him in my mind and hear him speak and remember his big blue Chrysler he drove. I'm am also thankful for the gruff old Sgt. who really ended up being one of the good guys. I am honored to have met them.

Just Listen

Things in my life have been spiraling downward for some time and everything is such a struggle. I feel like I'm going crazy. I keep looking back at my life and wondering what I did wrong, the bad mistakes I have made and what impact they have had on my family and those around me. I feel I have really tried my best but always seem feel like a failure. I keep asking, is it all me? What could I have done better, why did I do things the way they did, etc. I feel so sorry for any pain I may have caused others. I keep wanting to take the blame for everything and I just can't do it anymore. I know I made mistakes but other's did too. Do they see it? Do they care? A lot is going on and I don't know why people around me can't listen. Listen to what I said and am saying. Listen to how I feel....what I'm really feeling. I'm trying to tell them but they don't seem to care or to listen. I need to feel that I matter. I need to feel that I am cared for and loved. I need to be heard. I'm so burned out and it seems like I have always been a caregiver and now I need care. I try to tell them but no one listens. I'm just so unsure of life at this point in time. Is there a future with me in it? What will that life be? Does anyone really care? Do I live in a dream world and expect something that just doesn't exist? At times like this my mind takes me back to Vietnam, not that a day doesn't go by that I think of it. It was the very worst yet the very best. I know it really sounds crazy but I felt happy there and felt a special bond...friends / people you depended on...your family. I was glad when my time was up and I was going back to the World but as I was leaving it hit me. It was my family I was leaving and I was not yet ready to go and due to going on Emergency Leave I didn't ever get to say my goodbyes. But I know I did listen and I also know I was heard. Well, it's late and I'm rambling. You should do it...just listen to someone who really needs to be listened to. They may only need someone to listen or possibly more, but just listen and you'll know and it may be one of the most important things you do today....Just Listen.

Father's day

Today is Fathers Day. For some it is getting together with your father and spending time with him. For others it may be calling him from a distance, SKYPE, etc. and telling him happy fathers day. For some it may be not wanting to remember him at all. And then there are those who lost their father before they met him due to his death in war or those who knew their father but also lost them due to war or death. I thought of those children today and how much they must miss their father. It is a day for remembering and thanking them for being in their life. As I think of my father I think of man that I believe was very shy and one who never quite felt he measured up as a husband, father, provider, worker, etc. I was the oldest of five boys and I never felt he really loved me or that I measured up to what he thought a son should have been. I remember when I was in my 30's I put my arms around him at a wedding and tried to kiss him and tell him I loved him. It didn't go as I wanted and I was so hurt. It was not until he was dying and in hospice that I realized he loved me. We were taking turns taking care of him at his home. I remember telling him my first day/night staying with him that he took car of me when I was a kid and that he had done his best and now it was my time and for him not to worry when I changed him, etc. I always made sure to tell him I loved him. And then one night in a very gravely voice I heard him say "I love you too Mickey." He had lost much of his ability to speak but I did hear that. And he would be in his room and call me "Mickey", "Mickey", to come into his room. Words cannot express my happiness and feelings. There are not books or instructions to be a parent and some of us just really try and try. In looking back I can now see how much my dad had going against him and just how difficult life must have been for him. I looked at some letters this week when I in Vietnam and I am so ashamed. How I wish I could now tell him how sorry I am. But then I look back and those last few days and never had I felt so close to him and loved him so much. I think he new that and him telling me he loved me and me him was closure. I believe I am very much like my dad in many ways. So dad, I'm thinking of you this Fathers Day with warm thought and prayers and a warm heart. Love - Your son - Mickey

Long Binh and the 24th out of Water

Most Long Binh was out of water which affected the 24th. Right about this time the radio came to life. Queen Tonic this is Wide Minnow. Wide Minnow, this is Queen Tonic we responded. Wide Minnow then went on to say what type of casualties we had inbound. At this time we were told to advise the chopper we could not take any patients due to no water supply. The GI I worked with asked how do we tell Wide Minnow we don't have water. He asked about a code or something so the VC (The way I remember it.) would not know we had no water. I didn't know what to tell him to say so he gets on the radio and says: Wide Minnow this is Queen Tonic. We can't take any patients as we do not have Whiskey-Alpha-Tango-Echo-Romeo. The call came back: Queen Tonic this is Wide Minnow. Are you saying you don't have any water. All we could do was laugh and I still grin when I think of this. What can I say, we were young GI's doing our best and we did get it out what we were out of Whiskey-Alpha-Tango-Echo-Romeo.

Letter home 15 Mar 71

Dear Mom, Forgot to tell you we got in a guy from Associated Press. His name is William Barton. He and another guy did not stop at a checkpoint in Siagon and a ARVN (South Vietnamese Soldier) shot him. He lost an eye and is very seriously ill. I carried him off the chopper. Also, Francious Sully from Newsweek was here. He died an 1 and a 1/2 later. The final line was for her to send and address and then signed Love, Mic. I have this picture in my head of Mr. Barton and believe I spoke to him and got some information from him after he got into the ER and remember a face and bandages over his eye. I has been driving me crazy looking for this short letter. I was so afraid I lost it and it is just something tat is very importnat to me. I often wonder if he made it and what his future held for him. Always remembering but not knowing is the worst for me. I just want to know, did they made it out safe, to know if they went onwit their lives. I know it sounds crazy and sometimes I feel I am going crazy. I guess the important thing for me is that I will alwalys remember.

Gun Shot Wound - Urgent Urology

The call came in that an incoming chopper was brining in a GI - Urgent Urology. I believe he was either a door gunner or crew chief on a chopper who had been shot. We got him into the ER from the chopper, fatigues stripped or cut off and he lay there with bandages covering his penis and testicles. I remember him being very quiet and pale looking with dark hair and of course, young. He laid on the littter as he was examined by the Doc and was soon taken into surgery. Later we were told by on of the Doc's that he was out of surgery. He said he had lost a testicle but there was no permanent damage to his penis which had been grazed by the bullet. He said he would recover and would be able to have kids. I seem to remember that he was married. As usual I felt such a relief. We had such great Doc's, nurses, corpmen and staff at the 24th and they saved so many lives. You know, I feel such a loss in my life as I think of these young GI's and what happened after they left the 24th. Did they go back to the world, the field and did they make it through their tour. I also think of those who died and their families. I pray for them and don't think a day has ever gone by that I don't think of those young GI's and Vietnam.

Urgent Urology

The young GI came in on a chopper as an urgent urology case. I seemed to remember him when I saw him. But then again we were all pretty much the same, just young men - soldiers and I saw so many coming in. This young man had been circumcised sometime earlier. If I remember correctly, there seemed to be a number of young GI's who came in for that which was probably because there were in the field and easier to keep clean. I think it really didn't matter if one was in the field or not for some of them getting circumcised.

This young man's penis was very swollen, enflamed, etc. and it was clear something was wrong. I remember him laying there on the litter as he was examined by the doctor. He looked so young but then again he / we were all young and really just beginning our lives but beginning it in a war zone.

I'm not sure if he went to surgery or exactly what happened next but I do remember the Dr. saying at some point in time that he had Leukemia. I*m not sure how he knew or came to that conclusion but that is what I remember. Apparently the circumcision brought that to light sooner by what was happening and it not healing, etc. and I remember them getting him onto a medical flight out of Vietnam.

This is what is burned into my memory and I think of him and wonder what became of him and what the future held for him. I hate the not knowing and wondering for all those that came in and our paths crossed for the short period of time. I know it probably sounds strange or stupid but there are times I feel I'm going crazy. I wonder and think and cry and I just feel so lost. And I am afraid, no matter how painful the memories are that I'll forget them and I never want to forget but keep these young Gi's in my mind and heart and always remember them no matter what.

The Bridegroom Documentary

I heard of the Bridegroom documentary regarding two young men, Tom and Shane, their love for each other and the tragic death of Tom. I watched that documentary and I found it touching, sad, yet uplifting regarding these two young men who loved each other so much. Unfortunately, Tom's family could not accept his being gay, his lifestyle nor his partner. How sad for them that they could not accept him for who he was and love him as he truly deserved. During this documentary it stated Tom's dad was a Vietnam Veteran and Tom had went to Vietnam to see the Country because of this.

I suspect it may seem odd to some that a 63 year old Vietnam Veteran would say this but love is love and we all need love. There is a book "Dispatches" where the writer talks of being at a firebase in Vietnam and it is quiet and all you hear are two marines in a sleeping bag making love. Was that a rarity? I doubt it. We were all very young men in Vietnam and fighting for the freedom of our Country but that did not eliminate the need for kindness, a simple touch, a kiss or making love. That did not mean the soldier was gay, although some were. What I think it meant is that at that time and place one needed the comfort of their comrade, friend, buddy, etc. And no one should care. For that one moment those soldiers found the love and comfort they needed and perhaps it was the last time they would ever experience a simple touch, to just be held, to cry in someone's arm's, a kiss or making love. Love is love and we have no right in denying it to anyone.