thedrifter
06-17-08, 06:06 AM
Wednesday, Jun. 11, 2008
Vietnam Vets: Helping Iraq War Trauma
By Elisabeth Salemme / Oceanside
Bill Rider knows the look. The hollow, unfocused eyes, the sharp jawline formed from teeth pressed together like they're bound by cement, the pinned-back shoulders whose titanium stiffness mask sadness and fear. Rider knows the look because he possessed it after he returned from Vietnam. Now 63, he spent many years after that war sleeping with weapons by his side, seeking satisfaction in mindless sexual conquests, pursuing danger as an undercover narcotics detective. It took him 30 years to recognize that his emotional numbness and hypervigilance were wounds, deep war injuries that needed to be and could be healed. And he doesn't want America's 800,000 new veterans returning from Iraq and Afghanistan to have to go through the same dark wandering in the wilderness.
Rider and a handful of other Vietnam veterans in La Jolla, Calif., founded American Combat Veterans of War (ACVOW) shortly after Sept. 11, 2001, as a support group for those who had seen combat during their lives — or were about to in the war in Afghanistan. Thousands across the country joined the organization, but on March 20, 2003, when President Bush deployed the first U.S. troops to Iraq, the Vietnam vets who ran ACVOW knew the group would have a new, vital role. Says Rider: "We knew what it was like to be imprinted negatively by war, and we felt we had to use ourselves as a paradigm for future veterans of what not to be and what not to do."
The plight of returning soldiers is dire, based on testimony before the House of Representatives. A Department of Veterans Affairs e-mail indicated that 1,000 veterans each month attempt suicide; of the 300,000 veterans of the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan who have sought medical care through the VA system, about 60,000 have been given a preliminary diagnosis of posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD); a new Rand study found that 1 in 5 soldiers suffers from PTSD or major depression. While the VA has some programs in place, the rising rates of suicide, homelessness and violence among veterans is propelling groups like ACVOW forward. The Vietnam warriors believe they possess what the government can't offer: insight and genuine empathy, some of the most valuable resources for the psychologically wounded.
Though it doesn't receive government funding, ACVOW is recognized by the VA and the Department of Defense, and in 2006 the Marine Corps asked Rider and his team to provide PTSD debriefings for San Diego–area Marines returning from the Middle East. The meetings began in November 2007, and ACVOW started hosting weekly outreach meetings. Rider joined forces with Nico Marcolongo, 37, a former Marine intelligence officer who knew that peer support and the wisdom of older veterans could be a valuable combination. Marcolongo himself is recovering from debilitating depression; he spent six months in bed after returning from his second stint in Iraq in 2006, and during that time, he became so disconnected that his then 3-year-old son told his wife Lisa, "Daddy's still in Iraq."
On Thursday nights, about a dozen Iraq-war vets and a handful of Vietnam and Korea vets cram into the stark white room of an Oceanside, Calif., hospice — a blank canvas for colorful war stories. The support-group meetings are facilitated by Tim Jordan, a Gulf War vet with full facial hair and a graying ponytail, who's earning his master's in psychology. He tells them to try to meditate for just five minutes each day, to go to the ocean and concentrate on the waves. The advice seems a little Zen-like to these iron-tough soldiers, but most say they will try it. "Sometimes I think, Is there anything really wrong with me?" says Marcolongo, who also uses techniques like acupuncture to heal. "Then I go to the meetings, and I realize what other people are saying is exactly how I feel. I know I have to keep going to get it all out."
Rider and the older vets wait until the meetings end to talk privately to those who have opened up in a new way, who seem especially distressed or who simply display the look that Rider knows so well. "I don't want to be presumptuous and say, 'Here's the answer,' because the answer isn't the same for everyone," Rider says. "It's better if they come to it themselves."
When two meeting regulars, war buddies Scott Stanco, 36, and Josh Thomas, 32, returned from Iraq in October 2006, their nightmares were so intense that they slept with weapons by their bedsides and patrolled their homes — armed — in the middle of the night. Even worse, they stopped feeling love for their wives (each has been married for more than 10 years). "When I got home, I didn't feel comfortable talking to the civilian population," says Thomas, whose vehicle was struck by an IED in Iraq, causing a severe concussion and facial burns. "I have anger issues with them. It just bothers me that they go about their daily lives, going to Starbucks and stuff." The two friends have found a counselor and sounding board in Rider, the Vietnam vet. "They call me at home like I'm a doctor," says Rider, who keeps up that doctor-patient act outside group meetings. Says Thomas: "If I don't show up for a week, Bill calls me, e-mails and says, 'Hey, warrior, where have you been?' " Thomas, who still wants to return to Iraq with the Marines, says, "I meet him all the time for lunch and dinner. Because who else would we have? We only have each other."
"Veterans in the Vietnam generation have a lot to offer," says Dr. Ira Katz, director of mental health for the VA. "Whether it's mentorship of veterans from prior eras or peer support, seeking that help is an important step." ACVOW, one of dozens of similar groups and hundreds of individual Vietnam veterans nationwide are using their experience to guide the new generation of veterans with group therapy and by pointing them in the direction of good professional help.
The legacy of the Vietnam vets may extend farther into the future. Marcolongo knows that no veteran should ever feel isolated or alone again. He realized this soon after his first meeting with ACVOW. His wife Lisa remembers his instant relief: "His shoulders just came down from his ears, and he was immediately breathing easier." He knows that the Iraq war won't be the last war and that it's his responsibility as a combat veteran to be a resource for the next generation. "He's going to continue the Vietnam vets' mission," Lisa says. "We certainly don't want a whole other generation of vets realizing much later that they have psychological problems. Let's nip this in the bud now."
Ellie
Vietnam Vets: Helping Iraq War Trauma
By Elisabeth Salemme / Oceanside
Bill Rider knows the look. The hollow, unfocused eyes, the sharp jawline formed from teeth pressed together like they're bound by cement, the pinned-back shoulders whose titanium stiffness mask sadness and fear. Rider knows the look because he possessed it after he returned from Vietnam. Now 63, he spent many years after that war sleeping with weapons by his side, seeking satisfaction in mindless sexual conquests, pursuing danger as an undercover narcotics detective. It took him 30 years to recognize that his emotional numbness and hypervigilance were wounds, deep war injuries that needed to be and could be healed. And he doesn't want America's 800,000 new veterans returning from Iraq and Afghanistan to have to go through the same dark wandering in the wilderness.
Rider and a handful of other Vietnam veterans in La Jolla, Calif., founded American Combat Veterans of War (ACVOW) shortly after Sept. 11, 2001, as a support group for those who had seen combat during their lives — or were about to in the war in Afghanistan. Thousands across the country joined the organization, but on March 20, 2003, when President Bush deployed the first U.S. troops to Iraq, the Vietnam vets who ran ACVOW knew the group would have a new, vital role. Says Rider: "We knew what it was like to be imprinted negatively by war, and we felt we had to use ourselves as a paradigm for future veterans of what not to be and what not to do."
The plight of returning soldiers is dire, based on testimony before the House of Representatives. A Department of Veterans Affairs e-mail indicated that 1,000 veterans each month attempt suicide; of the 300,000 veterans of the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan who have sought medical care through the VA system, about 60,000 have been given a preliminary diagnosis of posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD); a new Rand study found that 1 in 5 soldiers suffers from PTSD or major depression. While the VA has some programs in place, the rising rates of suicide, homelessness and violence among veterans is propelling groups like ACVOW forward. The Vietnam warriors believe they possess what the government can't offer: insight and genuine empathy, some of the most valuable resources for the psychologically wounded.
Though it doesn't receive government funding, ACVOW is recognized by the VA and the Department of Defense, and in 2006 the Marine Corps asked Rider and his team to provide PTSD debriefings for San Diego–area Marines returning from the Middle East. The meetings began in November 2007, and ACVOW started hosting weekly outreach meetings. Rider joined forces with Nico Marcolongo, 37, a former Marine intelligence officer who knew that peer support and the wisdom of older veterans could be a valuable combination. Marcolongo himself is recovering from debilitating depression; he spent six months in bed after returning from his second stint in Iraq in 2006, and during that time, he became so disconnected that his then 3-year-old son told his wife Lisa, "Daddy's still in Iraq."
On Thursday nights, about a dozen Iraq-war vets and a handful of Vietnam and Korea vets cram into the stark white room of an Oceanside, Calif., hospice — a blank canvas for colorful war stories. The support-group meetings are facilitated by Tim Jordan, a Gulf War vet with full facial hair and a graying ponytail, who's earning his master's in psychology. He tells them to try to meditate for just five minutes each day, to go to the ocean and concentrate on the waves. The advice seems a little Zen-like to these iron-tough soldiers, but most say they will try it. "Sometimes I think, Is there anything really wrong with me?" says Marcolongo, who also uses techniques like acupuncture to heal. "Then I go to the meetings, and I realize what other people are saying is exactly how I feel. I know I have to keep going to get it all out."
Rider and the older vets wait until the meetings end to talk privately to those who have opened up in a new way, who seem especially distressed or who simply display the look that Rider knows so well. "I don't want to be presumptuous and say, 'Here's the answer,' because the answer isn't the same for everyone," Rider says. "It's better if they come to it themselves."
When two meeting regulars, war buddies Scott Stanco, 36, and Josh Thomas, 32, returned from Iraq in October 2006, their nightmares were so intense that they slept with weapons by their bedsides and patrolled their homes — armed — in the middle of the night. Even worse, they stopped feeling love for their wives (each has been married for more than 10 years). "When I got home, I didn't feel comfortable talking to the civilian population," says Thomas, whose vehicle was struck by an IED in Iraq, causing a severe concussion and facial burns. "I have anger issues with them. It just bothers me that they go about their daily lives, going to Starbucks and stuff." The two friends have found a counselor and sounding board in Rider, the Vietnam vet. "They call me at home like I'm a doctor," says Rider, who keeps up that doctor-patient act outside group meetings. Says Thomas: "If I don't show up for a week, Bill calls me, e-mails and says, 'Hey, warrior, where have you been?' " Thomas, who still wants to return to Iraq with the Marines, says, "I meet him all the time for lunch and dinner. Because who else would we have? We only have each other."
"Veterans in the Vietnam generation have a lot to offer," says Dr. Ira Katz, director of mental health for the VA. "Whether it's mentorship of veterans from prior eras or peer support, seeking that help is an important step." ACVOW, one of dozens of similar groups and hundreds of individual Vietnam veterans nationwide are using their experience to guide the new generation of veterans with group therapy and by pointing them in the direction of good professional help.
The legacy of the Vietnam vets may extend farther into the future. Marcolongo knows that no veteran should ever feel isolated or alone again. He realized this soon after his first meeting with ACVOW. His wife Lisa remembers his instant relief: "His shoulders just came down from his ears, and he was immediately breathing easier." He knows that the Iraq war won't be the last war and that it's his responsibility as a combat veteran to be a resource for the next generation. "He's going to continue the Vietnam vets' mission," Lisa says. "We certainly don't want a whole other generation of vets realizing much later that they have psychological problems. Let's nip this in the bud now."
Ellie