War induced PTSD

Has a cruel grip

On combat vets like me.

The ghosts that haunt us forever,

Ever, and ever,

The ghosts of war:

Deaths by killing,

The unavoidable witnessing

Of terrors

Of horror,

Being on guard

Forever ready,
Ever fearful,
Forever on watch,

Scanning,

Listening,

Gasping

For our lives

Day, after day, after day,

Blows our mind

And our soul

To bits.

All the heroism,

And the glory,

All that was bloody

And excitingly gory

Which we thought was fantasy

When we were children

Crashes into our soul,

Blasts a gaping hole,

Rips our very soul

From its mooring,

And then shatters it

Into painful fragments,

Leaving us broken,

Less than whole;
All because the ghosts of war

Break our soul

Day, after day, after day.

Christmas in Leominster, Massachusetts 1972

The USS Trippe had just returned from circumnavigating the globe after our tour of duty in Viet Nam. I am grateful for families that bring "alone" people into their homes for the holidays.

Here is my Christmas story when I was the one who was "alone".

I pulled up the collar on my navy pea coat as I walked down the gangplank to the pier. Snow covered the 22 foot long cannon that sat on the bow. The wind glided across the water and sprinkled ice coldness into my bones. Our ship had just returned from our around the world tour with the Bahamas as our last port. We were proud of our tans which were in stark contrast to the winter-white-skinned New Englanders who came to welcome us home on the pier at the Newport, Rhode Island naval station. I was happy for all of my shipmates who had family to greet them home.

I had been assigned duty over Christmas. That prevented me from flying home to California to spend Christmas with my family and with my son, whom I had not seen for 9 months. A few days before Christmas, Norman (pronounced No (ah) mun with the ah barely audible) came up to me and said, “I can’t stand the thought of you spending Christmas alone on the ship. I talked to my parents. We ah inviting you to spend Christmas with us. You can help me drive home.”

Getting to spend time with Norman’s family delighted me and put my sad heart at ease. We left the ship a couple of days before Christmas. He parked the car in the driveway behind his parents’ house. As we walked up the back steps, his parents greeted us with big smiles. He introduced me to his parents, to his young aunt, and to his younger sister, Janine.

After showing me the bedroom where I could put my things, he took me into the living room to show me the Christmas tree. He pointed to three small presents under the tree. “Look at those,” he said with a proud grin. “They're yours. They have your name on ‘em.”

I felt a little embarrassed. I had sent nearly all of my money home. I only had $3.25. What could I buy for this family with only $3.25?

The following morning I walked to the grocery store. I meandered up and down the aisles wondering what I could buy with what little money I had. When I walked by the meat section, I considered buying a ham, or something that the whole family could eat. I changed my mind because I felt that it was unfair for me to buy a gift that would make them feel obliged to cook and feed me part of it.

I stopped at the breakfast cereal aisle and looked at a box of Apple Jacks. Janine had told me she liked that cereal. Inspiration hopped onto my shoulders. I grabbed a box of Apple Jacks, Fruit Loops, Frosted Flakes, and Corn Pops. I found a roll of wrapping paper. I took them to the checkout stand and prayed that I had enough money. I did.

I walked back to Norman’s house and hid the items under the bed without being noticed. I went into the kitchen where Norman sat at the table watching his mother make a special dish that looked like mashed potato balls with meat in the middle. He told me his mother made those every Christmas. Janine walked into the kitchen and asked Norman to take her and their aunt to the store. He asked me if I wanted to go along with them. I asked if I could just stay put and relax. He told me that he’d be back in a short while.

Once he left, I asked his mother if I could borrow a pair of scissors and some Scotch tape. I went into his bedroom. Embarrassment prevented me from asking for ribbon. I only had scissors, wrapping paper, and Scotch tape. I unrolled the wrapping paper and placed the box of Corn Pops on top of it. I crossed my arms and stared, wishing I had ribbon. My shoulders slumped. “This is stupid,” I whispered to myself. I looked out the window when I heard some snow slide off the roof. Icicles hung from the eaves reflecting sunshine onto the bedroom walls. The shadows on the walls awakened my creativity.

I wrapped the Corn Pops box and left an excess of paper at the top. I used the scissors to create dozens of “fingers.” I used Scotch tape to adhere the paper fingers into a pretty pattern. I wrapped all of the cereal boxes with paper-cut designs. I put a name on the white side of a piece of wrapping paper for each box and placed the boxes under the tree.

On Christmas morning, everyone gathered around the Christmas tree. Presents were passed around and opened one by one so that everyone could see what each person got. When Janine picked up the box of cereal that I had wrapped for her, she said, “Oh! This is too pretty of a wrapping. I almost don’t want to open it."

“You don’t need to,” I said wishing that she wouldn’t.

I could feel my face getting hot as I watched her fingers carefully pry off the tape and remove the wrapping paper. When Janine, saw the box of Apple Jacks, she laughed and told me that I picked her favorite cereal. Each family member told me how much they admired my wrapping. They handed me the gifts that they had gotten for me. I felt welcomed and loved.

Author's Bio.

Tuesday, December 19, 2017

Buried at Sea

War induced PTSD

Friday, December 8, 2017