Combat @ MindSay 
I pray that the reading of this very personal account of war and its aftermath will benefit other combat veterans agonized by severe and chronic PTSD as it has been for me in the writing of it. The intention of this account is to help them, their friends and loved ones better understand this devastating “psychological, automatic, and natural response” to repeated, life threatening situations and to offer them hope and guidance in achieving a much brighter future. This publication will bring them to the realization that they are not alone in their sufferings and that professional help, understanding and comradeship, is as close as the nearest Veterans Administration Medical Center.
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http://www.police-writers.com/articles/griffin_bugle_call.html
The presence of drugged fighters is not unknown in the history of warfare. Yet widespread drug use on the battlefield is now part of protracted conflicts largely fought by nonprofessional combatants that take place in an international system characterized by the process of globalization. From marijuana, khat, hallucinogenic mushrooms, cocaine, heroin, and methamphetamine to looted pharmaceuticals, irregular fighters have found a ready supply of narcotics to consume for a variety of combat purposes. Such consumption has led to unpredictable fighting, the commission of atrocities, and to the prolongation of internal violence. The presence of intoxicated combatants will continue to be a feature of armed conflict and requires a fuller accounting to adequately prepare policymakers and military planners for future conflicts.
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http://www.strategicstudiesinstitute.army.mil/pubs/display.cfm?PubID=850
Who'd all be aviators, and not afraid to fly!
For Duty, Honor, Country, their courage I admire!
But it takes more than courage, son, to get to be a flyer.
When you are only twelve years old of course you want to fly!
And tho' you know not what is Death, you're not afraid to die.
But of the million, more or less, all must have perfect eyes;
So only half a million now, can dream of future skies.
Then comes high school, science, math; Some choose the easy way:
Football, cars, and dating girls; teen pleasures hold their sway.
And of the quarter million left, one half go on to schools;
The other half will dream and drift, and never learn the rules.
Now comes the day of testing, eight hours of Stanine Hell;
On every subject known to man, four- fifths will not do well.
The one in five who pass this test Apply for flying schools,
The Application Boards will now Eliminate the fools.
Then comes two days of nakedness, Flight Surgeons poke and prod;
To pass this Flying Physical one needs to be a God!
And now, five hundred lucky souls will start their Pre-Flight days;
Endure demerits, hunger, cold, as upperclassmen haze.
One-half survive this mental game, and go to Primary schools,
But only half will hack the course, move on to Basic rules.
Two hundred fifty now will try to pass those Basic tests;
Formation flight soon separates, the " tiger" from the rest.
One hundred twenty five will then pin on those pilot wings;
The best become hot fighter jocks; the rest fly other things.
Some will die while learning those essential combat skills;
Some will die in combat, some will score their "kills".
But they have learned a lesson, sometimes lost on you and me;
We must always fight for Freedom, because Freedom's never free!
He's a knight in shining armor, that the cruel tyrants fear;
He's that deadly drop of venom on the tip of Freedom's spear.
Engaging him in battle is a course that only fools would choose;
He's the world's fiercest warrior, for he has the most to lose.
So when you see that fighter pilot, standing at the bar;
Taking out the garbage, or tuning up his car.
You'd best walk up and offer him your thanks, extend your hand;
He's that rare "one in a million" who protects this sacred land.
2. What did you do in the war daddy or mommy?
3. Did you lose any buddies over there?
4. Were you shot or injured?
5. Did you win the war?
6. What was it like over there?
7. Would you go over again?
8. What did your family think when you were over there?
9. Do you think everybody should have to serve their country?
10. Did you have a girl or boyfriend while you were there?
11. Do you think about the war?
12. Did you think the war was necessary?
Jim Heitmeyer
Having a conversation with my adult daughter is like walking on a razor blade. Some days I am wearing combat boots and it is quite comfortable and today I must have been out of my mind and ventured out there bare footed....again!!! We started out ..or should I say I started out quite innocently talking about my beloved grandson who I watch for her daily since she has found no one else who can since finding her job which works odds hours of the day and evening. The term "oh Mom will do it" seems to be oh to familiar in my daughters vocabulary...both to her duties and also to give away to her friends. It seems I am so talented that she is either proud of what I can do or thinks I have nothing better to do with my days than to help her and her friends out with their kids and projects or she is trying to keep me busy so I will not feel old and useless as she as averted to a few times in conversation. My delema is finding the balance, the boundary and the dignity to stand up and say I think this is not what I really want to do. I have always had a hard time saying NO...not only to her but to anyone.... I always want to be an example of giving and giving and giving and going the extra mile... Until I am exhausted and burnt out. I have been learning over the past 10 years or so that my miles are not always to give to others ....they sometimes are to give to me in order that I have to give to other when God asks me to give to others (?). Another words I need to hear His voice and follow Him and not anyone else. So in terms of this conversation....I said something that made her cry. I was direct, emotionless (she said) and uncaring (she said) , and made her feel like crap right before she had to go to work. Thanks alot MOM!!!
So now I feel like crap, and have been crying ever since....but the truth be told....what I said was the absolute truth. I am so sorry that she feels this way about my delivery, that I am direct and unemotional. Nothing could be further from the truth. I love her and her son more than life and would give mine up for them. In fact I do on many occasions. But she only sees the way I speak and try to control her, or change her. How I "make" her feel. Oh how I wish my mother were alive today so I could tell her that I messed up so bad in my life because of sin and not because of the way she was with me. I used to yell and fight and tell her horrible things and do and say and act wickedly in front of her to make her think that it was something she did to make me rebel like that. The way she left my dad, the alcohol she drank the parties, my step dad the way she beat me, something...and yes it mattered...But it is sin that separated me from God not her. Sin made me wicked and evil and put drugs into my veins not her....I loved her and wanted her attention and love back.
And I know when my daughter is yelling at me and crying and hurting there is that little girl that is saying deep inside ....but mommy something is wrong and I don't know what to do and I need you to fix it and I don't know how to ask.....mommy I love you and need a hug....
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