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‘Ghosts and Demons’: Vietnam Vets Coping with PTSD
By Heidi Russell Rafferty
CNN war chatter peppered the house with perpetual background noise, fueling an obsession
for Michael Jeffords of Janesville, Wis. He endlessly kept meticulous track of troop
movements in Iraq and Afghanistan, using pushpins on a world map.
Halfway across the continent, in Elko, Nev., Gil Hernandez, VFW Nevada Department
commander, was doing the same thing, except he took his behavior to a higher level. In
addition to mapping the troops, Hernandez yelled like a football fan screaming at a team
within goal on fourth down.
“I would watch TV day and night,” Hernandez says. “I‟d say, „No! Don‟t do that!‟ A little boy
would bring a soldier water, and I‟d yell, „No! It‟s booby-trapped!‟ Someone would break the
door down and go right in, and I‟d yell, „You‟re not ready! Send someone else!‟”
Such behaviors signal that something is amiss, say VA therapists. In fact, Jeffords and
Hernandez are two of thousands of Vietnam War veterans identified by VA as suffering from
renewed post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) symptoms.
Since the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks and the beginning of the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq,
VA has seen a 59% increase in the number of Vietnam veterans seeking counseling for
PTSD at its mental health centers. The number has gone from 123,824 vets in 2001 to
196,886 in 2006.
Therapists agree on two factors contributing to the spike: continuous news coverage of the
war on terror and retirement. Throughout the years, a lot of veterans were workaholics,
successfully keeping wartime memories at bay. Now with more time to dwell, their
memories return mercilessly. Counseling has become unwanted but unavoidable.
Jeffords served as a sergeant and squad leader with 3rd Plt., B Co., 1st Bn., 3rd Marines, in
Vietnam from March to November 1965. He came home in 1965 to a banking career in
Janesville. His prominent positions included bank president, member of the board of
directors and chief operating officer. Since retirement in 2004, he has battled troubling
dreams and also gets easily annoyed. “When you‟re not constantly going all day [at work],
you have time to think,” he says. “The ghosts and demons come back.”
“The wife could see it. I was getting pretty obnoxious with everybody, and she said, „Hey,
you have to get in [to VA] and get tested for PTSD.‟ I said, „Baloney. I‟ll go in and show
you.‟ And they said I had it.”
VA doesn‟t want veterans to be ashamed to seek assistance, says Dr. Ira Katz, deputy chief
of Patient Care Services for Mental Health for VA in Washington, D.C. He also is a former
professor of psychiatry and director of Geriatric Psychiatry at the University of Pennsylvania
Medical Center, researching depression in the aged.
“We‟re concerned that there are some people from Vietnam who have had chronic or
persistent illness, because it was years before we had effective treatments available to
them,” Katz says.
“PTSD is a specific illness that is diagnosable and treatable. We want people to know that
treatment works. Frankly, someone who functions very well for 30 to 40 years is very likely
to respond well to treatment.”
Understanding PTSD
“The thousand-yard stare … battle fatigue … combat melancholy.”
Since the Civil War, veterans have given their own names to battle-weary feelings that wash
over them when the fighting is finished.
But it wasn‟t until the 1980s that PTSD was medically recognized as an illness, Katz says.
“It was vaguely defined. We knew there were some instances, but we didn‟t define between
what was an illness and what was a normal reaction to highly abnormal situations. We didn‟t
know what treatments worked,” he says.
Complicating matters, PTSD is episodic. Once someone experiences it, they are more
subject to re-trauma throughout life if memories trigger. “It‟s more like having asthma than
pneumonia,” Katz explains.
It‟s not surprising that VA is seeing new cases of PTSD among Vietnam veterans, Katz says.
Patients can take one of two forms: those who have been struggling with symptoms all of
their lives and aren‟t willing to struggle anymore; or those who experience new symptoms
that are related to old ordeals.
Additionally, because of the medical community‟s past lack of understanding of PTSD,
coupled with the unpredictability in recurrence, a lot of veterans have suffered silently for
years, especially if they feared being labeled “weak.”
William “Doc” Schmitz (known during Vietnam as “Lurch”) of Corning, N.Y., was a Navy
corpsman. He served most of his tour with G Co., 2nd Bn., 26th Marines, from 1969-1970 in
“Happy Valley.” When he first came home, he immediately sensed a personality shift.
“I felt I was really different,” Schmitz recalls. “In retrospect, I knew what was going on.
There are certain times of the year—June, July, December and Jan-uary—that are really bad
for me. But I didn‟t recognize this until five years ago.”
The 9/11 Trigger
For Schmitz and many other veterans, PTSD symptoms reached a crescendo on Sept. 11
and with the ensuing wars in Afghanistan and Iraq. Schmitz recalls how, on Sept. 11, he
was so upset he had to leave work. “I called home and told my family to buy water and to
gas the car up because we were preparing for problems,” he says. “The PTSD people live in
survival mode. That‟s what you do—prepare.”
Lucian Townsell was in Vietnam from October 1970 to November 1971. He went over as an
engineer equipment repairman, but ended up spending most of his time participating in the
rescue and retrieval of downed helicopter crews. He was with the 39th Engineer Battalion
based in Chu Lai.
He came home after he was shot in the arm. Today, he‟s VFW‟s junior vice commander of
Kentucky. His wife Debbie says that when Lucian returned, he told her, “Divorce me. I‟m
not fit to live with. I‟m not who I used to be.”
During their 37 years of marriage, Townsell has exhibited and been treated for a number of
PTSD symptoms. But his “PTSD behavior” increased after Sept. 11, his wife says. Since
then, he‟s seen a VA psychiatrist regularly. Townsell wishes he had been able to get
treatment much earlier.
“My physical wounds were treated well,” he says. “But the mental wounds—90% weren‟t
treated. Physical wounds can heal, but if you don‟t treat the mental, they‟ll never heal.”
Other veterans, like Hernandez, didn‟t feel the PTSD reverberations until the Afghanistan
and Iraq wars began. Hernandez wanted “to be with the troops and help them,” which was
why he would yell at his TV while watching war footage.
Hernandez was in Vietnam for four months in 1968 as a fire team leader with 3rd Plt., G
Co., 2nd Bn., 3rd Marines. He was severely wounded by shrapnel while handling bridge
security and was revived twice from death on the operating table, spending a year in the
hospital afterward. Seven feet of his small intestine was removed, and he had to learn to
walk again.
He has nightmares about that firefight. They echo old fears about the enemy “coming to
finish us off.” He adds, “I can‟t stop the crying like I used to. If you talk about Afghanistan
or Iraq, it bothers me and I cry.”
Retirement‟s Effects
Besides the exposure-by-proxy to the wars abroad, the onset of old age and retirement are
both contributors to the resurgence of PTSD. Katz explains that the brain‟s frontal lobe,
which is just behind the forehead, inhibits another section called the amygdala, which
affects fear. The frontal lobe may actually change in some people as they age, making
someone more vulnerable to the amygdala—therefore, more vulnerable to negative
memories, he says.
And for former workaholics, retirement does not necessarily usher in peaceful golden years,
Katz says. One veteran he treated was a passenger airline pilot. After retiring, his earlier
PTSD symptoms caught up with him. “When I asked him about it, he told me that when he
worked, he never had a life. He said, „I was able to fly jets, but I‟m never able to go to the
supermarket,‟” Katz says.
Schmitz continually worked overtime at his job at a corrections facility. He constantly fought
grouchiness, sleeplessness and short-tempered outbursts. “Underlying all of that was the
PTSD, but you‟re staying so busy that you don‟t have a lot of time to think,” Schmitz says.
“Retirement gives you more time, and it‟s like having chronic PTSD. You‟re always getting
bucked by it, no matter what‟s going on.”
Jeffords, the banking executive, agrees working kept his mind off unpleasant memories. “I
was the first one in and the last one out. I‟d be there by 7:30 a.m. and home by 6,
sometimes later. Work gets your mind off it,” he says, adding that because of retirement,
his obsession with CNN ballooned.
But he‟s gotten better, he says. “I quit keeping track of troop movements. My counselor
said, „Why stir it up? Just switch it off and forget about it.‟ Now I can just look at it and turn
it off.”
For the Health of It
The success of Jeffords‟ treatment underscores why VA says counseling isn‟t just a good
idea—it‟s a necessity for mental health, as well as physical health.
Most people don‟t understand, for example, that bottling memories can actually make you
sick, say Cynthia Dunn and Tom Shurling, who are psychologists at the VA medical center in
Lexington, Ky.
Veterans with PTSD often suffer gastrointestinal problems. And a whopping 90% of those
treated also have heart problems. Central Kentucky bears the nickname “Cardiac Valley”
because of the high incidence of heart attacks among veterans, Shurling says. Veterans
interviewed by VFW magazine agreed that they indeed have suffered a wide range of heart
and gastrointestinal ailments, which they believe are connected to suppressing the
memories.
Those who have sought counseling say they wish they hadn‟t waited. Jeffords has learned a
useful coping tool from his VA counselor: “When the rage comes up, I try to think of
something funny,” he says. “That tempers it out. There‟s an old saying that you can either
laugh or cry, but you can‟t do both. So that‟s worked for me.”
Doctors are helping him deal with his borderline hypertension and ensuring his diabetes
stays under control. Jeffords also has been to classes for PTSD sufferers, such as on how to
control dreams. “It‟s very helpful,” he says. “It gives you something concrete to hang your
hat on. When it happens, there are certain things you can do to realize you can do
something about it.”
Hernandez wanted to receive help. But after he drove 300 miles to the VA center nearest
his home, he was frustrated about completing a seven-page questionnaire about his
symptoms. He left without being seen. “I never did go back, and it‟s been a year now,” he
says. “That‟s why I keep busy. I‟ve been so busy that I may crash and burn, and then I‟ll
have to go back. I just needed someone to walk me through [the questionnaire process].”
Katz says the VA wants to help people like Hernandez, who he says experienced “symptom
avoidance.”
“That‟s the tragedy, when the symptoms themselves are the barrier to treatment,” Katz
says. “How do we solve the problem of getting people to take treatment? That‟s the big
question we‟re working on.”
Networking Helps, Too
Veterans also agree that their connections with each other, be it through VFW or other
community organizations, are a huge help.
As a VFW officer in Kentucky, Townsell feels good about his ability to lobby state lawmakers
for veterans interests. Schmitz has been active as a Shriner clown, a Mason and is editor of
VFW‟s New York state newspaper. He also works with VA‟s PTSD clinic for sexually assaulted
war veterans in Batavia, N.Y.
And Hernandez says that links with VFW and a Vietnam association have helped him share
his experiences with those who have “been there, done that.”
As he says, “We all need to get a hold of other people and talk.”
A platoon reunion about five years ago helped Schmitz relax in a way he normally couldn‟t.
“I felt like, „Someone is watching my back, and I can relax,‟” he says. “We were in a parking
lot, and it took us three hours to leave. Now we stay in touch via e-mail and phone calls.”
Jeffords has been bolstered by reaching out to younger veterans. “Every day, something
reminds you, and bam—your sense of smell is in the jungle, and it‟s very claustrophobic,”
he says. “It‟s like eyesight—your brain adjusts to increase your hearing and smelling sense.
It was there that I could smell when they were around. You couldn‟t see anything, but your
sense of smell increased.”
“This is why I owe VFW and VA a lot, because they‟ve helped me with this. This is why I‟m
trying to help the younger guys.”