I did what I did... hell I have 8 months of my 10 yrs Active Duty missing from my service record and I wasn't Rambo for damn sure...... I agree... a post I made awhile back where this guy at the bar in full USMC dress blues had his campaign medal in front of his bronze star that he didn't earn (or the rest of the ribbons/medals he for sure didn't earn)... but they are the f*ck ups... they have to live with it... I left angry.. but came back here and talked with some of my mentors here and came to a peaceful realization that I know what *WE* did was real... that he only wished he could be us... lol silly him... if he only knew.. if he only knew... he was riding on our coat tails.. I wish we could give him some of the burden we carry too to help him feel it...
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Sgt Tim Poe On America's Got Talent...
- Post starter IraqVet86
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Sounds like a good ACT. We had someone write a series of books based on the Special Air Service, only to find he didn't go anywhere. We also had a state president of one of our State Returned Service Leagues proven a fraud. He claimed he served in Vietnam but did not leave the country.
W
Wagon
When I was in, The CNO (Chief of Naval Operations) shot himself at his desk. Why? Because the bastard had been wearing Vietnam medals for 25 years and did not deserve one of them. He was found out.
Posers are all over in this world. It's even encouraged. When you write up your CV or Resume, some professional will always tell you......"Hey, doctor that up a little, you were more than that in that job, use some fancy buzz words" HR is the biggest propagator of this type of behaviour.
I can't really believe there is law called the "Stolen Valour Act" Really! Congress has wasted their time over this? Thought that would just be covered by "Fraud", end of story. Why a whole law? Who cares? Me and everyone else on here aren't impressed by a chest full of medals unless we know the person. Other than that it's just a chest full of metal, and very attractive on the market as recycle values are quite high.
Wagon.
Posers are all over in this world. It's even encouraged. When you write up your CV or Resume, some professional will always tell you......"Hey, doctor that up a little, you were more than that in that job, use some fancy buzz words" HR is the biggest propagator of this type of behaviour.
I can't really believe there is law called the "Stolen Valour Act" Really! Congress has wasted their time over this? Thought that would just be covered by "Fraud", end of story. Why a whole law? Who cares? Me and everyone else on here aren't impressed by a chest full of medals unless we know the person. Other than that it's just a chest full of metal, and very attractive on the market as recycle values are quite high.
Wagon.
jamz
Silver Member
When I returned from Somalia in June of 93... a lot of ppl in Canada didnt want to hear anything about it.
The gov't was trying hard to brush a lot of it under the rug.
I remained locked up inside my head, hell and home. I drank myself to death every night only to wake up and face death in the morning/afternoon/evening... whenever I awake fr my drunken/drugged out haze.
I was under the impression that in time things will work out and like thae old saying goes "Time heals all wounds."
By 95 I thought my life was getting better. The flashbacks, intrusions and nightmares were still there but I thought I was getting better.
I had relocated to Vancouver, got myself a job bartending at a posh restaurant... was making new friends, mtn biking, snowboarding and leading an active life. I didnt listen to the signs. Every night after work I was pissing away my liver, picking fights w ppl and just plain being a f*cking mess. I worked with an older gent named Pierre.
At first I was weary cause of being protected for so long, but also because 80% of the staff were gay. And I just thought this was his way of trying to get me into bed. One night we were all out drinking, I confronted him... this time the soldier rage was very evident. I told him I was straight and said I dont understand his intentions, but try anything and I'll kill you.
He actually had the guts to walk up to me the next day and said, very calm "We need to talk!". Seeing how I had to work with the guy I granted him that. After work we went to this cool bistro in an area called Gastown, resembles a lot like Paris. We ordered a drink and he immediately started.
He said that he meant no bad intentions just knew that I was suffering. He began to tell me that his father had both sexually and physically abused him from the time he was 7 to when he left home at 16. When he first got to Vancouver from Montreal he started doing drugs and got into heroin and to support his habit began prostituting himself. He explained that he knows when he sees pain cause it was that pain that nearly killed him.
I told him about Somalia, what I could tell him.
About 6 mos after I started working there I lost my f*cking mind... and from that moment for a very long time I never said shit about my service. This f*ckwad named Blaine walked by me in the staff room and asked/yelled sarcastically, "How many n-----s did I kill in Somalia?!" I f*cking lost it, my boss had to call security because I first went after him. Then as others pulled me off him I went to town of the staff area... smashing tables and chairs. Security escorted me out to the police and I was going to be charged until my boss intervened and said no charges. I couldnt go back to work there; both because I couldnt and because my episode scared the shit out of the staff. They knew what happened and a lot of the staff supported me.
From that moment on... I buried my past.
Never talked about it, I tried to make an attempt to reintegrate and some f*cking asshole threw it in my face.
And this doesn't count the numerous episodes where some f*ckhead said shit to me about Somalia.
It seemed the more ppl knew the more ammo they had against me..I didnt give a shit about my service, Somalia and esp SOME GODDAMN f*ckING MEDAL!!
I managed to catch myself many times going out to places to do harm on ppl. Sometimes I failed and left a trail of blood and wreckage. I soon got the monicker Shit Storm fr my friends... which really f*cking hit home. If my friends were saying this abt me... well f*ck them too.
It took me a lot of yrs to come around my bros/sisters.
To realize that the shit ppl said abt me... well it WAS MY OWN DOING.
And that acting out isnt going to solve shit but isolate me even more.
More importantly it took me a long time to come around about Somalia
And I still am... a work in progress.haha
One thing that I have are my medals.
They symbolize my struggles over the last 20 yrs; dealing with life as a civvy, the horrors of that f*cking mission, PTSD and importantly the reluctance of my govt to even acknowledge us. When I learned to come to peace with those issues and work with them I was able to come to peace with Somalia a little more.
So my medals, photos and souvenirs from the mission are the tangible things that I can hold and look at.
It doesnt bother me as much as it did that ppl dont even know that we were there.
So I hear you all, I dont need medals, a pat on the back or a f*cking thank you. I know what I did and am learning to be proud of it. But the one thing I do hold on to are the medals... because it is a sign of my struggle to get here....
And if anyone has anything to say about that feel free...
The gov't was trying hard to brush a lot of it under the rug.
I remained locked up inside my head, hell and home. I drank myself to death every night only to wake up and face death in the morning/afternoon/evening... whenever I awake fr my drunken/drugged out haze.
I was under the impression that in time things will work out and like thae old saying goes "Time heals all wounds."
By 95 I thought my life was getting better. The flashbacks, intrusions and nightmares were still there but I thought I was getting better.
I had relocated to Vancouver, got myself a job bartending at a posh restaurant... was making new friends, mtn biking, snowboarding and leading an active life. I didnt listen to the signs. Every night after work I was pissing away my liver, picking fights w ppl and just plain being a f*cking mess. I worked with an older gent named Pierre.
At first I was weary cause of being protected for so long, but also because 80% of the staff were gay. And I just thought this was his way of trying to get me into bed. One night we were all out drinking, I confronted him... this time the soldier rage was very evident. I told him I was straight and said I dont understand his intentions, but try anything and I'll kill you.
He actually had the guts to walk up to me the next day and said, very calm "We need to talk!". Seeing how I had to work with the guy I granted him that. After work we went to this cool bistro in an area called Gastown, resembles a lot like Paris. We ordered a drink and he immediately started.
He said that he meant no bad intentions just knew that I was suffering. He began to tell me that his father had both sexually and physically abused him from the time he was 7 to when he left home at 16. When he first got to Vancouver from Montreal he started doing drugs and got into heroin and to support his habit began prostituting himself. He explained that he knows when he sees pain cause it was that pain that nearly killed him.
I told him about Somalia, what I could tell him.
About 6 mos after I started working there I lost my f*cking mind... and from that moment for a very long time I never said shit about my service. This f*ckwad named Blaine walked by me in the staff room and asked/yelled sarcastically, "How many n-----s did I kill in Somalia?!" I f*cking lost it, my boss had to call security because I first went after him. Then as others pulled me off him I went to town of the staff area... smashing tables and chairs. Security escorted me out to the police and I was going to be charged until my boss intervened and said no charges. I couldnt go back to work there; both because I couldnt and because my episode scared the shit out of the staff. They knew what happened and a lot of the staff supported me.
From that moment on... I buried my past.
Never talked about it, I tried to make an attempt to reintegrate and some f*cking asshole threw it in my face.
And this doesn't count the numerous episodes where some f*ckhead said shit to me about Somalia.
It seemed the more ppl knew the more ammo they had against me..I didnt give a shit about my service, Somalia and esp SOME GODDAMN f*ckING MEDAL!!
I managed to catch myself many times going out to places to do harm on ppl. Sometimes I failed and left a trail of blood and wreckage. I soon got the monicker Shit Storm fr my friends... which really f*cking hit home. If my friends were saying this abt me... well f*ck them too.
It took me a lot of yrs to come around my bros/sisters.
To realize that the shit ppl said abt me... well it WAS MY OWN DOING.
And that acting out isnt going to solve shit but isolate me even more.
More importantly it took me a long time to come around about Somalia
And I still am... a work in progress.haha
One thing that I have are my medals.
They symbolize my struggles over the last 20 yrs; dealing with life as a civvy, the horrors of that f*cking mission, PTSD and importantly the reluctance of my govt to even acknowledge us. When I learned to come to peace with those issues and work with them I was able to come to peace with Somalia a little more.
So my medals, photos and souvenirs from the mission are the tangible things that I can hold and look at.
It doesnt bother me as much as it did that ppl dont even know that we were there.
So I hear you all, I dont need medals, a pat on the back or a f*cking thank you. I know what I did and am learning to be proud of it. But the one thing I do hold on to are the medals... because it is a sign of my struggle to get here....
And if anyone has anything to say about that feel free...
jamz
Silver Member
Sorry to come off like that folks...
This has been a huge factor to my anger.
I am having such a hard time letting go of all the pain and anger from Somalia and all that is involved with that.
I wish I could just let it...or learn to live with it.
Im having such a difficult time with it...
I dont know what Im trying to say... just that my anger is not directed at any of you, my friends.
Just that I want to say to the younger vets... please get the help that you need.
Dont wait almost 15 yrs, by then it has seeped into every fibre in my body and it has left me in a state where Im going to act out or hurt myself.
I am so f*cking tired of this f*cking life, I think about suicide every day. My status says balanced but it seems that being balanced for me is some f*cked up state.
I need you guys and your help or support... if not then I feel by this xmas my family will be burying me under the f*cking mistletoe.
This has been a huge factor to my anger.
I am having such a hard time letting go of all the pain and anger from Somalia and all that is involved with that.
I wish I could just let it...or learn to live with it.
Im having such a difficult time with it...
I dont know what Im trying to say... just that my anger is not directed at any of you, my friends.
Just that I want to say to the younger vets... please get the help that you need.
Dont wait almost 15 yrs, by then it has seeped into every fibre in my body and it has left me in a state where Im going to act out or hurt myself.
I am so f*cking tired of this f*cking life, I think about suicide every day. My status says balanced but it seems that being balanced for me is some f*cked up state.
I need you guys and your help or support... if not then I feel by this xmas my family will be burying me under the f*cking mistletoe.
- Post starter
- #18
That was quite a story man. Thanks for sharing. I feel the same way about mine, and that is why I brought this whole thing up. I had no idea there were so many opinions and views about medals. Medals are medals, and don't make anyone a bad-ass or cool, and they come at a hell of a cost.
It's the COST that bothers me about posers and fakers. The real suffering that happened that they think is cool, and benefit from.
It's the COST that bothers me about posers and fakers. The real suffering that happened that they think is cool, and benefit from.
a lotta sharing going on today... glad I came here to the site... ya I guess that is my grief... to see that jackwad wearing a Bronze Star and he is too f*cked to look up on line to see where to put it on his ribbon bar... AND to take credit for it pisses me off for the people who really earned it, the ones who lost limbs for it... that died for it... that watched their brothers and sisters die...
I did nothing special... I did well more than the average Joe off the street could ever do as did all of us here, but I know a lot will agree.. we just did our job.... The best I got was an Armed Forces Expeditionary Medal... but so did every other swinging dick who was in Lebanon from the day of the Beirut bombing in 83 to shortly after I left... Am I proud of it? Hell ya!!! It is my only link to a part of my life I can never return to, and at the same time never escape...
I am more proud of the Letter of Commendation written by the Navy Doctor in Sigonella on my care of a patient during a long and difficult Medevac (his words, it was long and boring to me lol) I took that kid from the Aegean Sea to Italy by CH-53, all the way to Rhein Mein by 707... then bus to Wiesbaden... about 20+ hours straight... That is something I can never wear on my chest... but I wear it on my soul... I got that guy out... and as far as I know he is alive and well somewhere in America... probably having a midlife crisis right now lol..
I think of all my memorabilia the Black Shield, with the Caduceus on it... signifying I am an FMF Corpsman is the highest honor I could ever earn.. no I didn't earn it... I was given the right to wear it by the Marines who I served with and took care of better than I took care of myself...
Jamz... keep on keeping on Bro... we all have your back.. talk when you want to and as much as you want to... be quiet and soak it all in.. but expect some private msgs if your ass is quiet too long... Glad you made it here..
Anger will kill you... I wasn't lucky enough back in the day and survived...
I did nothing special... I did well more than the average Joe off the street could ever do as did all of us here, but I know a lot will agree.. we just did our job.... The best I got was an Armed Forces Expeditionary Medal... but so did every other swinging dick who was in Lebanon from the day of the Beirut bombing in 83 to shortly after I left... Am I proud of it? Hell ya!!! It is my only link to a part of my life I can never return to, and at the same time never escape...
I am more proud of the Letter of Commendation written by the Navy Doctor in Sigonella on my care of a patient during a long and difficult Medevac (his words, it was long and boring to me lol) I took that kid from the Aegean Sea to Italy by CH-53, all the way to Rhein Mein by 707... then bus to Wiesbaden... about 20+ hours straight... That is something I can never wear on my chest... but I wear it on my soul... I got that guy out... and as far as I know he is alive and well somewhere in America... probably having a midlife crisis right now lol..
I think of all my memorabilia the Black Shield, with the Caduceus on it... signifying I am an FMF Corpsman is the highest honor I could ever earn.. no I didn't earn it... I was given the right to wear it by the Marines who I served with and took care of better than I took care of myself...
Jamz... keep on keeping on Bro... we all have your back.. talk when you want to and as much as you want to... be quiet and soak it all in.. but expect some private msgs if your ass is quiet too long... Glad you made it here..
Anger will kill you... I wasn't lucky enough back in the day and survived...
jamz
Silver Member
Thanks Tho,
Im glad to hear that you were recognized for what you did.
Im also glad to hear that, like myself, you are able to take it in stride to some degree.
You and I like most here know that we were doing the job first.
All else came second.
The sacrifices we made really speaks of who we are.
The same goes with me, dont hesitate to drop me a msg anytime.
Usually if I dont answer right away I may be busy or getting my thoughts in line to answer.
Cheers
jamz
Silver Member
No way...
In Halifax up until the 60's all immigrants passed through Pier 21
That's where your family would have passed through.
What's ironic about it is that I can see it from my apt window.
I'm actually looking at it now... I'll give it a wave for you.(waving)
It's cool that you are l'Acadiens, I have always loved Acadian culture and
would love to go to New Orleans someday and immerse myself in the Cajun culture down there.
I love the French. Quebec is not very far from Halifax and I try to get Montreal when I can.
The culture there is so much better than here. Halifax is a stuffy conservative British city, Canada's
Naval shipyard on the east coast. It's a small city(under 1/2 million) but it is a tough place. Lots of fighting,
drinking, drugs gangs etc. I would rather live in Montreal.
When I get older I would love to settle in Paris.
Become a whacky old artisan and just live in a small apt.
Who knows.
C'est tres bon mon ami.
In Halifax up until the 60's all immigrants passed through Pier 21
That's where your family would have passed through.
What's ironic about it is that I can see it from my apt window.
I'm actually looking at it now... I'll give it a wave for you.(waving)
It's cool that you are l'Acadiens, I have always loved Acadian culture and
would love to go to New Orleans someday and immerse myself in the Cajun culture down there.
I love the French. Quebec is not very far from Halifax and I try to get Montreal when I can.
The culture there is so much better than here. Halifax is a stuffy conservative British city, Canada's
Naval shipyard on the east coast. It's a small city(under 1/2 million) but it is a tough place. Lots of fighting,
drinking, drugs gangs etc. I would rather live in Montreal.
When I get older I would love to settle in Paris.
Become a whacky old artisan and just live in a small apt.
Who knows.
C'est tres bon mon ami.
lol an Ernest Hemingway in the making...
ya we were exiled to NS then moved to Acadia then those Brits kicked us out and we had to move down to hells dungeon... New Orleans is all Creole.. French who came directly here mostly rich, we stay away from there.. if you ever make the pilgrimage I can hook you up and we can go all Jack Keroak Rt. 66 on it.. Lafayette is the western most place to be.. then Lake Charles.. the Eastern most border of TX is mostly Cajun as well... that's where I grew up.. nothing but Boudreaux;s, Thibodeaux's, Fontenots's etc there...
lol no one wanted us so we had to live in the swamps go figure.. now everyone wants to eat our food...
ya we were exiled to NS then moved to Acadia then those Brits kicked us out and we had to move down to hells dungeon... New Orleans is all Creole.. French who came directly here mostly rich, we stay away from there.. if you ever make the pilgrimage I can hook you up and we can go all Jack Keroak Rt. 66 on it.. Lafayette is the western most place to be.. then Lake Charles.. the Eastern most border of TX is mostly Cajun as well... that's where I grew up.. nothing but Boudreaux;s, Thibodeaux's, Fontenots's etc there...
lol no one wanted us so we had to live in the swamps go figure.. now everyone wants to eat our food...
reddevil1111
Diamond Member
My lungs and wings were my pride as I earned them. My purple heart with oak cluster was the worst as it reminded me of f*cking up.
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