thedrifter
04-20-08, 09:23 AM
04/20/08
Marine recounts war within
Veteran wants to help others understand stress disorder
Editor's note: This story contains graphic war details, as recounted by a local Vietnam veteran. Reader discretion is advised.
Charles Shaughnessy continued to thrust his knife into the North Vietnamese soldier.
Tears poured down the young Marine's face, splashing in a pool of red dirt. Yet his arm could not stop swinging.
For days, the 20-year-old watched as other squads tried to take Hill 100, only to be massacred by an entrenched Vietnamese enemy.
He was ordered to lead the assault one week later. It was still dark when the attack began.
Shaughnessy took control when he saw one of them pop up to shoot the advancing Marines.
He grabbed the man by the neck and squeezed. His knife was relentless.
Shaughnessy's body vibrated with fear, as he continued up the hill, screaming and stabbing.
The fear gave way to animalistic rage.
"I cut off the heads of my enemy and displayed them at the top of the hill," he wrote years later. "I felt nothing."
But the grisly images consumed him afterward.
Shaughnessy, who now resides in Gulf Cove, would awake many nights seeing the enemy he killed.
Following the war, Shaughnessy hitchhiked across the country in search of inner peace. He spent four years living in the woods of upstate New York, away from people and society -- both of which he no longer trusted.
Shaughnessy joined the Marines in 1966 eager to serve his country and end the war so others would not have to fight. He was sent to Vietnam two years later, as part of a special operations detachment.
His outfit was a roving battalion of hunter/killer teams designed to operate behind enemy lines. Most of their missions remain classified.
"I did live through a hell of a lot, but it doesn't define who I am today," said Shaughnessy, who suffers from post-traumatic stress disorder.
But he will never forget.
* * *
The squad was starving.
Smoke from their resupply helicopter ballooned in the distance. It had been shot down by enemy rockets several days earlier. There was no more food.
Desperate, the Marines consumed lizards to survive. They knew the counter-attack was imminent.
The battle came five days after Hill 100 was secured by American troops.
Shaughnessy was situated below the command post when a grenade landed in his foxhole, shared by two other men. Vietnamese troops swarmed the perimeter from all sides.
Shaughnessy jumped to avoid the grenade blast, and then reentered the hole because it was the only safe place.
The Marines in a nearby foxhole were not so lucky.
A mortar shell burst into an orange fireball as it hit the entrenchment. Shaughnessy watched as his friend, "Taco," struggled to his feet. The Mexican native would draw cartoons for the Marines whenever they wrote home. He had the uncanny ability to sketch with either hand.
Shaughnessy could not take it anymore.
He instructed the men in his foxhole to stay put while he went to help Taco. The sight of his friend was devastating.
Taco was missing both arms.
Shaughnessy subdued his emotions as he used a sling to tourniquet the stringy flesh. By then, another Marine entered the hole. Amid the screams, Shaughnessy peered down the hill.
An M-60 machine gun position he placed on point was being overrun by Vietnamese forces. The hillside defense was on the verge of collapsing.
Shaughnessy turned to the other Marine and instructed him to provide covering fire.
He clutched his knife and ran.
* * *
Shaughnessy never met Eric Hall, but he knew what the troubled Marine was experiencing.
For years, Shaughnessy relived a similar past. It stalked him. At night, the horror would replay in his mind, over and over.
Shaughnessy knew. He had been a prisoner of the same disconnect long ago.
When Hall went missing Feb. 3, Shaughnessy, now 60, wanted to help with the search.
The former squad leader spent weeks investigating Hall's disappearance with a handful of other veterans. He posed as a homeless man for several days to gather information from the camps across Charlotte County. He became a ghost at night, shadowing the spots where Hall was supposedly seen.
More important, Shaughnessy provided comfort to an anguished family.
Hall, 24, had been diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder, an illness that affects thousands of returning soldiers. He moved to Florida in mid-January with hope of a fresh start.
But the war flashbacks would not stop.
Hall was convinced the phantom beings he saw wanted to kill him. It had been the same for Shaughnessy, who 30 years earlier, would see his enemy, standing over him with a bayonet.
"It's not like a John Wayne movie, where war is glorified," he said. "This is what men face."
The search for Hall carried into March.
Shaughnessy was spearheading an effort one Sunday with Hall's mother, Becky, and another Marine when he detected an odor emitting from a drainage pipe in Harbour Heights, near the spot where Hall's motorcycle was recovered.
Shaughnessy had searched the pipe before, but found nothing.
This time, he would venture further.
* * *
By the time Shaughnessy reached the machine gun position, the men were already dead.
But the foxhole was still lined with unused grenades.
Shaughnessy hurled them frantically below, where the enemy was regrouping for another assault. The explosions rippled throughout the hill, blending with the splintering buzz of automatic gunfire.
Shaughnessy grabbed the M-60 and inserted a 100-round belt. The gun barrel had melted by the third ammo belt.
However, his desperation was repelling the attack.
It seemed like an eternity, but Shaughnessy's "trance" lasted 20 minutes, he was later told. Two other Marines joined him in the hole to suppress the final wave.
The sun ascended into the desolate sky and revealed the slaughter. The ground was swollen with broken bodies.
Of the 40 Marine defenders, about 15 would make it off the hill. Shaughnessy would never see Taco again.
The two-hour battle claimed many lives for both sides, but the toll could have been worse if not for Shaughnessy's crazed trance.
During the fight, several officers observed Shaughnessy's bold actions from the command post. He was awarded the Bronze Star with a Combat "V" one year later for thwarting the assault.
Shaughnessy returned home a decorated hero. But inside, he was already hollow.
* * *
Shaughnessy's flashlight bounced off the endless darkness, as he crawled deeper into the soggy pipe.
The air became more rotten with each movement, which now exceeded 50 yards. Shaughnessy could see something in the distance, but it looked like a rock.
He crawled within arms reach of the object and lifted. It was a skull.
Authorities identified the remains as Hall. Shaughnessy wept.
Another soldier was lost to his mental torture because he did not receive proper help.
"You go through training to learn how to kill and deal with what is in front of you, and you become hardened to it," Shaughnessy said. "When you return from war, you're told to go get a job."
The Hall family wants to correct those mistakes by establishing a foundation to assist returning military personnel, while teaching others about post-traumatic stress.
Shaughnessy is one of its biggest advocates.
Every day, he works to generate support throughout the community. The response has been national.
Two major fund-raising events are already scheduled for the summer and fall respectively. Shaughnessy carries the fliers everywhere, distributing them to anyone who will listen.
It has become his mission in life.
Throughout the years, Shaughnessy often wondered why he survived Vietnam, where death literally stared at him down a gun barrel. He questioned why God would keep alive someone who had done so many ugly things in the name of freedom.
Now he knows.
"This all happened for a reason," Shaughnessy said. "I am glad I can use my past experiences to try and help others."
You can e-mail Jason Witz at jwitz@sun-herald.com.
By JASON WITZ
Assistant Englewood Editor
Ellie
Marine recounts war within
Veteran wants to help others understand stress disorder
Editor's note: This story contains graphic war details, as recounted by a local Vietnam veteran. Reader discretion is advised.
Charles Shaughnessy continued to thrust his knife into the North Vietnamese soldier.
Tears poured down the young Marine's face, splashing in a pool of red dirt. Yet his arm could not stop swinging.
For days, the 20-year-old watched as other squads tried to take Hill 100, only to be massacred by an entrenched Vietnamese enemy.
He was ordered to lead the assault one week later. It was still dark when the attack began.
Shaughnessy took control when he saw one of them pop up to shoot the advancing Marines.
He grabbed the man by the neck and squeezed. His knife was relentless.
Shaughnessy's body vibrated with fear, as he continued up the hill, screaming and stabbing.
The fear gave way to animalistic rage.
"I cut off the heads of my enemy and displayed them at the top of the hill," he wrote years later. "I felt nothing."
But the grisly images consumed him afterward.
Shaughnessy, who now resides in Gulf Cove, would awake many nights seeing the enemy he killed.
Following the war, Shaughnessy hitchhiked across the country in search of inner peace. He spent four years living in the woods of upstate New York, away from people and society -- both of which he no longer trusted.
Shaughnessy joined the Marines in 1966 eager to serve his country and end the war so others would not have to fight. He was sent to Vietnam two years later, as part of a special operations detachment.
His outfit was a roving battalion of hunter/killer teams designed to operate behind enemy lines. Most of their missions remain classified.
"I did live through a hell of a lot, but it doesn't define who I am today," said Shaughnessy, who suffers from post-traumatic stress disorder.
But he will never forget.
* * *
The squad was starving.
Smoke from their resupply helicopter ballooned in the distance. It had been shot down by enemy rockets several days earlier. There was no more food.
Desperate, the Marines consumed lizards to survive. They knew the counter-attack was imminent.
The battle came five days after Hill 100 was secured by American troops.
Shaughnessy was situated below the command post when a grenade landed in his foxhole, shared by two other men. Vietnamese troops swarmed the perimeter from all sides.
Shaughnessy jumped to avoid the grenade blast, and then reentered the hole because it was the only safe place.
The Marines in a nearby foxhole were not so lucky.
A mortar shell burst into an orange fireball as it hit the entrenchment. Shaughnessy watched as his friend, "Taco," struggled to his feet. The Mexican native would draw cartoons for the Marines whenever they wrote home. He had the uncanny ability to sketch with either hand.
Shaughnessy could not take it anymore.
He instructed the men in his foxhole to stay put while he went to help Taco. The sight of his friend was devastating.
Taco was missing both arms.
Shaughnessy subdued his emotions as he used a sling to tourniquet the stringy flesh. By then, another Marine entered the hole. Amid the screams, Shaughnessy peered down the hill.
An M-60 machine gun position he placed on point was being overrun by Vietnamese forces. The hillside defense was on the verge of collapsing.
Shaughnessy turned to the other Marine and instructed him to provide covering fire.
He clutched his knife and ran.
* * *
Shaughnessy never met Eric Hall, but he knew what the troubled Marine was experiencing.
For years, Shaughnessy relived a similar past. It stalked him. At night, the horror would replay in his mind, over and over.
Shaughnessy knew. He had been a prisoner of the same disconnect long ago.
When Hall went missing Feb. 3, Shaughnessy, now 60, wanted to help with the search.
The former squad leader spent weeks investigating Hall's disappearance with a handful of other veterans. He posed as a homeless man for several days to gather information from the camps across Charlotte County. He became a ghost at night, shadowing the spots where Hall was supposedly seen.
More important, Shaughnessy provided comfort to an anguished family.
Hall, 24, had been diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder, an illness that affects thousands of returning soldiers. He moved to Florida in mid-January with hope of a fresh start.
But the war flashbacks would not stop.
Hall was convinced the phantom beings he saw wanted to kill him. It had been the same for Shaughnessy, who 30 years earlier, would see his enemy, standing over him with a bayonet.
"It's not like a John Wayne movie, where war is glorified," he said. "This is what men face."
The search for Hall carried into March.
Shaughnessy was spearheading an effort one Sunday with Hall's mother, Becky, and another Marine when he detected an odor emitting from a drainage pipe in Harbour Heights, near the spot where Hall's motorcycle was recovered.
Shaughnessy had searched the pipe before, but found nothing.
This time, he would venture further.
* * *
By the time Shaughnessy reached the machine gun position, the men were already dead.
But the foxhole was still lined with unused grenades.
Shaughnessy hurled them frantically below, where the enemy was regrouping for another assault. The explosions rippled throughout the hill, blending with the splintering buzz of automatic gunfire.
Shaughnessy grabbed the M-60 and inserted a 100-round belt. The gun barrel had melted by the third ammo belt.
However, his desperation was repelling the attack.
It seemed like an eternity, but Shaughnessy's "trance" lasted 20 minutes, he was later told. Two other Marines joined him in the hole to suppress the final wave.
The sun ascended into the desolate sky and revealed the slaughter. The ground was swollen with broken bodies.
Of the 40 Marine defenders, about 15 would make it off the hill. Shaughnessy would never see Taco again.
The two-hour battle claimed many lives for both sides, but the toll could have been worse if not for Shaughnessy's crazed trance.
During the fight, several officers observed Shaughnessy's bold actions from the command post. He was awarded the Bronze Star with a Combat "V" one year later for thwarting the assault.
Shaughnessy returned home a decorated hero. But inside, he was already hollow.
* * *
Shaughnessy's flashlight bounced off the endless darkness, as he crawled deeper into the soggy pipe.
The air became more rotten with each movement, which now exceeded 50 yards. Shaughnessy could see something in the distance, but it looked like a rock.
He crawled within arms reach of the object and lifted. It was a skull.
Authorities identified the remains as Hall. Shaughnessy wept.
Another soldier was lost to his mental torture because he did not receive proper help.
"You go through training to learn how to kill and deal with what is in front of you, and you become hardened to it," Shaughnessy said. "When you return from war, you're told to go get a job."
The Hall family wants to correct those mistakes by establishing a foundation to assist returning military personnel, while teaching others about post-traumatic stress.
Shaughnessy is one of its biggest advocates.
Every day, he works to generate support throughout the community. The response has been national.
Two major fund-raising events are already scheduled for the summer and fall respectively. Shaughnessy carries the fliers everywhere, distributing them to anyone who will listen.
It has become his mission in life.
Throughout the years, Shaughnessy often wondered why he survived Vietnam, where death literally stared at him down a gun barrel. He questioned why God would keep alive someone who had done so many ugly things in the name of freedom.
Now he knows.
"This all happened for a reason," Shaughnessy said. "I am glad I can use my past experiences to try and help others."
You can e-mail Jason Witz at jwitz@sun-herald.com.
By JASON WITZ
Assistant Englewood Editor
Ellie