Haunted by PTSD

For a few of the seven men sitting in a room decorated with framed posters of Memorial Day and Veterans Day, the bitter memories of their combat days are as vivid as yesterday.

But they are learning to cope with those memories - together.

Every Tuesday and Thursday, from 11 a.m. to noon, the Chinle Vet Center becomes a safe harbor for veterans to gather and come to grips with post-traumatic stress disorder.

On June 16, six elderly veterans of the Vietnam War and one from the Korean War met together behind a closed door with Vietnam combat veteran Joe Charles to candidly talk about their war and post-war experiences.

One of the wives of the Vietnam veterans was also among the group.

Charles is the group's counselor. He earned his counseling skills from Weaver State University.

He earned his PTSD knowledge from serving eight months with the Marines' 26th 3rd Division in Vietnam in 1968. His two-year tour was cut short after he was wounded twice.

"I didn't know I was a walking PTSD," Charles said. "I did a lot of crazy things - fighting, getting in jail, drinking."

He went through 18 months of PTSD treatment at the veterans' center in Salt Lake City before taking a job with the Chinle veterans' center more than six years ago.

"These are my comrades," Charles said proudly as he looked around the small conference room. "I can really relate to them. I wish there was more (veterans) coming (to the PTSD counseling)."

All the veterans nodded their heads in agreement.

Jackie Burbank, a Vietnam combat veteran who served in the Marines in 1966 and 1967, said that when he returned from the war in 1968 there were no services for veterans on the Navajo Reservation.

Veterans had to go into the border towns for services, but now it's here, said Burbank, who is the commander of the Chinle Agency Veterans Organization.

He urged veterans to apply for their benefits and services, which have time limits.

Larry Brown, a Vietnam combat veteran who served with the Army's 82nd Airborne Infantry Division from 1973 to 1976, said he always encourages the young veterans of the Iraq and Afghanistan wars to attend PTSD counseling.

Brown's PTSD involved a lot of anger.

"This program has really improved my life," he said. "It has helped me cope, to be aware of myself. They really helped me to live a sober life. I'm just living a happier life."

Brown, who is 20 percent disabled, strongly advised veterans to be patient when they begin their road to recovery and especially when they begin applying for their benefits, which is time-consuming and got him "frustrated and angry."

But he said the veterans' center can help them apply for their benefits.

Lee Chief, a Vietnam combat veteran who served in the Army in 1966 and 1967, said he never talked about his combat experiences to anyone, including his late mother, who scolded him for drinking so much after he returned from Vietnam.

He said that after she told him to go to school and get a job, he enrolled at an electronics school in San Francisco, where he also met his wife.

Chief said he continued drinking but made it through electronics school and got a job.

His wife finally told him that they needed to leave San Francisco to get away from his drinking buddies.

They moved to Tucson and then to the reservation. They now live in Tselani/Cottonwood, where he is a member of the veterans' organization.

"All that time I didn't know I had PTSD," Chief said. "I was still drinking. I couldn't get away from it."

Then about five years ago, he said he went to a counselor where he applied for PTSD and Agent Orange disability. His claims were denied.

Two years ago Chief said he was diagnosed with diabetes II and it was linked to Agent Orange.

He said the Veterans' Administration evaluated him at 30 percent PTSD-disabled but three counselors are working with him to have that percentage increased.

"Most of us here went to war and we suffered a lot," Chief said. "We want the Iraq and Afghanistan veterans to know what we went through before they get started down that same road. I want them to come here and get help."

Johnson Slivers, the sole Korean War combat veteran, who sat silently in the back of the room as all the men talked, slowly raised his hand to talk.

"It's hard," Slivers said softly. "It's all here in my chest. It's really hard for me. That's why I'm quiet."

He said that it was 1950 when he was sent overseas to Korea.

Johnson remembered that he was in a foxhole when he saw the heads of Chinese men on stakes. He had never seen anything like that and it shocked him.

He couldn't believe that the heads were real so he touched one. Johnson said he could feel the spirit of the dead man.

"That's when it got me," he said.

He said that at the urging of his wife, who he credited for saving his life, he began attending PTSD counseling in Prescott, Phoenix, and Albuquerque. And then he heard about the Chinle Vet Center on the radio.

Johnson started going to the center, where he started group counseling with Charles and Hunter.

And then his wife passed away on Feb. 6 and he stopped going to the center.

"Ruthie (Hunter, the center's social worker), she came to my house," Johnson remembered. "I was laying down. She talked to me. She really helped me. I'm going to start trying to come here all the time instead of Phoenix and Albuquerque. But Albuquerque has a sweat lodge."

After listening to Johnson, Burbank said that he and some of the veterans had Nidáá (Enemy Way ceremony) to heal them from what Johnson was experiencing after he touched the head of the dead man.

"I participate in (Navajo) ceremonies," he added. "It helps too."

Charles said he hopes that the Navajo Nation will provide at least $500 in seed money for veterans to help them have a Nidáá.

For information about the Chinle center (Navajo Route 7, old BIA complex, building 59), call 1-888-707-6790 or 928-674-3682/5630.

SIDEBAR: More outreach needed for vets, officials say»

NEXT: Interagency service sees increase in veterans»

Back to top ^