Pleiku here-- I came back to the World in '70. Within 6 months began experiencing the classic symptoms and self medicating with drugs and alcohol. Went to Milwaukee VA, slept for two weeks on a psych ward, then d.c.'d with a whackin' big bottle of Thorazine. Soon got rid of that. Drifted up to British Columbia and worked as a logger, miner, tree planter and forest fire fighter. I think I also picked every fruit and vegetable that grows in North America, including tobacco. Always trying to recapture the camaradarie and not realizing it. Got sober in '84 and came back stateside where I got my master's in social work and worked until recently as a psychotherapist. Symptoms caught up to me in 2011 so I went to my friendly local VA. They gave me a return to work slip saying I was no longer competent to assess or treat patients, effectively ending my career. Then told me I was not eligible for services until, long story short, I had applied for benefits (established service connection). As they had already cost me my job, I became angry. I became even angrier when some peace time jar head at the regional office suggested I was being less than honest. Mistake jarhead. I probably spent more time in Vietnam filling sandbags than bringin' smoke, but I know ya gotta crank a fifty twice before lightin' her up. (Which incidentally, was more than he knew, despite his oft mentioned "...superior marine training...".) At that point, I made the observation that, in this humble soldier's opinion, the marines were a bunch of glorified grunts with a great press service. I may also have suggested that, while hard chargers, they were easily confused by speaking to them in words of more than one syllable. I'm ashamed to admit that I asked him on another occasion if it were true that the primary duty of a "gunny" was to act as a sort of "comfort woman" to his men. Don't try this at home gentlemen. Never argue with an idiot, you just irritate yourself and further confuse the poor idiot.
But, all is well that ends well. Things are going better now that I'm being helped by the Madison VA. I can't honestly say that life is wonderful, but it has improved now that the finances are squared away. Money isn't everything, but it helps pay the rent! (apologies to all you jar-heads, fact is, I never met a marine I didn't like.)
God bless this exceptional Country of ours.
