i love the smell of depleted uranium in the morning

Colonel Kilgore with his own case of PTSD?

I can't think what Kirk Semple was after in today's chirpy little Times page-one story, "Flyboys from Vietnam, Graying and Grounded in Iraq."   In this look at a half-dozen Army pilots called back to "Forward Operating Base, Iraq" as part of their Guard commitment, Semple maintains the light tone of a survey on early retirement,  even when discussing how many times these  guys bombed Vietnam and their frustration now at being kept out of flying due to their "command and control responsibilities.": "I'd rather be in the action than sitting behind a desk," one grumbles.

Even when the action consists of secret captures and killing unarmed Iraqis inside formerly sacred spaces? Of house-to-house searches,  the kind that can bring on memories like those  that haunt Ryan Voeller -- a Marine from Minnesota, whose fiancee's love distracts him from "the memories that continue to haunt him from Iraq: an elderly couple lying dead in the street, the woman's arms wrapped around the man; an Iraqi woman who reminded Voeller of his fiancée, crushed to death."

These  "flyboys"  at Forward Operating Base, Iraq  are mostly running a ferry service, it seems, for men engaged in such action,and may be spared those memories themselves. But I read this piece after coming across this from the incomparable Mike Lewis, at the Seatttle PI:  "Vietnam,, Iraq Wars Cited for Minister's Suicide." 

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WENATCHEE -- He never was inclined to talk much about the damage, at least not to his wife and children. They knew -- it was obvious -- that a land mine in Vietnam took large portions of both of the Rev. Alan McLean's legs 38 years ago.

They knew that the single detonation in 1967 triggered ongoing waves of psychological temblors when McLean heard helicopters or when war footage appeared on the news. They knew that the decorated veteran was profoundly distressed by the Iraq war, an anxiety that ran as deep as the former Marine's patriotism.

	McLean

But they didn't know about the .45-caliber pistol. Or the suicide note in his laptop, written but never printed out, seven days before he used that pistol. In it, McLean, the popular rector of St. Luke's Episcopal Church here, apologized to his wife, Betsy, and his children for not being stronger. The war in Iraq, he said, unbearably amplified his nightmares.

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McLean, it seemed had made terrific lemonade of the lemons tossed his way by the war. After an initial corporate career, he switched gears and became an Episcopal priest  at age 42 (about the same age I'm entering more fully the church of journalism). Despite flinching at the helicopter noises that couldn't have been infrequent given his town's proximity to  Ft; Lewis, he pastored a community, fighting for access to the disabled in church among his other duties:

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But stress disorder episodes dogged him.

The first Gulf War left him nearly debilitated, his daughter said. Panic attacks followed the whup-whup-whup of a helicopter. War footage, especially about ground wars, left him shaken. Over the years, the reactions worsened.

"It got worse and worse," Betsy said. "We stopped watching the news."
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I wonder if Lewis looked at St. Luke's congregation, which likely included numerous active-duty personnel (Wenacatchee is listed as home address by numerous folks from Ft. Lewis and perhaps young veterans as well. Did seeing them do a number on him as well? And how  many Vietnam Vets who aren't pastors, who aren't active with the Vietnam Veterans Against War (many of whom are channeling huge support  to  our friends at Operation Truth and IVAW),  have quiet firefights skittering across their brains?

Not our re-deployed friends at Forward Operating Base. The headline writer's smart titling of Semple's strory reminds us who these guys are: flyboys, whose sadness comes from lost buddies, not bleeding bodies:'

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"The rule used to be: take off in the morning, come back at night, get drunk, and do it again the next day," Mr. Freeman said. He remembers flying Hueys full of alcohol to bases in Vietnam. By comparison, the bases in Iraq are completely alcohol-free.

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This is is where the Kilgore meme atarted in my head. Remember Kilgore, in Apocalypse Now? His most famous line is "I love the smell of napalm in the morning," which means he'd fit right in in this war, where napalm is still used to clear terrain and is the known aftereffect of cluster bombs. But Kilgore, also administers alcohol as reward for good killin: "A case of beer in that for you, son."

Chief Warrant Officer Ronald P. Serafinowicz, 56, who is also a liaison between the division headquarters and the aviation brigade, said the experience of being back in combat had resurrected his past.

"You live your life, and memories fade. But when you're back in it, suddenly the memories come back, and you remember all your missions," said Mr. Serafinowicz, a longtime Long Island resident who moved to Arizona a decade ago.

But for all the war stories the men can share, they do not romanticize the experience. For all their desire to fly here, they do not feel the need to relive the trials of their first war.

"I lost more friends there - young guys who never got to live a life," said Mr. McGurn, a Yonkers native who is a Westchester County police officer in civilian life.
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Still, their memories are gentle, blurred by alcohol and the unit bravado that kept them going, if punctuated by losses. I'm sorry, guys, but  you're not going to relive that war. It's going to be a lot worse.

This Tuesday, PBS' Frontline will air "Soldier's Heart" -- stealing the title of that Daniel Frosch piece I noticed here in December, if not its terrifying prediction from one psychiatrist of 75 percent PTSD in those returning from this war. Their website promises resources for those coming back, both in new offices set up by the Pentagon already and other resources at the VA and Vet Centers.  It also promises "stories of this war's impact" on Vietnam veterans,

I wonder if Mr. McGurn and his crew will see it. You're on the front line, guys, in more ways than one: if the day hasn't come already, you'll look into the eyes of  another Ryan  Voeller, a young man or woman using all his/her energy to hold things together. I hope this group of grandfathers at Forward Base recognizes budding PTSD when they see it, and does what's necessary for the emotional survival of the GI. They might take some tips  from Ray Parrish, billed as VVAW's main military counselor (a figure, of course, in my book as well) or any of the Vietnam vets actively engaged in trying to stem the damage from this war.

I wonder if depleted uranium has a smell, as it rises from the smoke of armor.  And if the Kilgores of this war  (there may still be a few) savor the rush from it, before strafing an Afghan village or ferrying another group of infantryment to "combat operations." But then again, it';s not a smell they likely know before flying back to their super-fortified base.

A young student of mine,  a recent veteran, ix  concerned about PTSD in her contemporaries (though she didn't go overseas herself).. I told her  that it's a dangerous obsession, and joked that sometimes my blog feels like "the PTSD blog." I wanted to write today about the conference at the UN this week, and still will, but Rev McLean's story, Frontline and the geezers from Forward Base pushed me here. I found Voeller when I was looking to link "house-to-house searches"  - proof that the blowback has already begun.

To riff on a much earlier post of mine: Apres eux, le deluge.

PBU9

Comments

[anna]

Of house-to-house searches, the kind that can bring on memories like those that haunt Ryan Voeller -- a Marine from Minnesota... <<<<

Is there anyone who reads this that can tell me how to get in touch with Ryan? Please? mail me at [email protected]
Thanks.......