Combat PTSD and More: by Lawrence (WarHippy) Blouir

PTSD - A Wound of War

COMBAT PTSD, Recurring Nightmares, Survivor's Guilt, Lions and Sappers and Gooks, OH MY!  

How the Wizard gave me the courage to FIGHT BACK and WIN.

I know it's a long title, but I'll bet I got your attention.

This is my story, and only my story, but my nightly trips back to the Nam nowadays are for vengeance, not horrors of the past, and you might learn something important, so keep reading, PLEASE!  Cuz I want you to survive, too.

I signed up and was accepted into a three-month in-patient Combat PTSD Program in 1993. There were eight guys in a locked ward, so nobody could run away and give up.

We were all raging with PTSD symptoms, so you can just imagine how a lot of the nights went after lights out and we all went back in our minds to the horrors we witnessed in the Nam.

Many nights, one of the guys would startle himself awake violently and trigger other guys to do the same.  It was insane.  The people who took care of us had to be Saints with very big balls, cuz we were younger then and sometimes woke still in the Nam fighting for our lives, and anything that moved was the enemy. They did whatever it took to bring us down and back to reality.

Daytime was better, but not without its incidents.  We were RAGE-driven Vets and many times, the dining room, meeting room, or the day room would get completely wasted, but we retained enough self-control that we never hurt each other, or the cadre assigned to "babysit" us. Yes, sometimes they were just there to make sure we behaved and played well together.

NIGHTMARES:

Here is the technique that was suggested.  I followed it and it worked for me:

Keep a journal beside your bed.  The very first thing you do when you regain your senses after waking from a nightmare is write about it. Write every little detail you can remember, because the little details are very important.  They fade from your memory very quickly after you wake.

Most guys have one recurring nightmare that haunts them constantly. Write about it.  Never mind how many times you've already written about it, write it down and read it every day.

Look for important events that recur all the time, or the BIG BANG, that startles you awake in a pool of sweat, shaking. (I'm assuming that you're sober and in a combat PTSD group).

If the facilitator isn't smart enough to set aside time to talk about nightmares, suggest it to him. Go around the room and check in. Share the worst part of your nightmare and have the group discuss each person's personal hell.

My personal hell would always start on a bunker.  The gooks were attacking in waves, BUT I WAS THE ONLY ONE DEFENDING THE WHOLE BUNKER LINE!

I'd blow the claymores, blow the fu gas, then grab the 60 and spray the remaining gooks that were still coming.  Then I'd notice they were about to overrun the next bunker, so I'd jump down and haul ass to that one, blow the claymores and fu gas, grab the 60 and fire it, until I noticed the next bunker.
This seemed to continue forever, until I'd startle myself awake.  I was shaking, in a pool of sweat, most of the time crying, because I'd done the best I could, but I still couldn't save my buddies from the gooks.

That last line was the key to defeating the dream that had eaten my lunch for over 20 years. It wasn't my job to save everybody. We were a team.  We worked together to save each other.

In my nightmare, I was assigning myself a task that even John Wayne couldn't have pulled off. When my group finally made me see the no-win scenario I put myself in every night, the nightmare stopped.

I still go back to the Nam a lot at night, but it's a dream now, not a nightmare.  I'm a platoon sergeant, and I know my shit, and I'm at Travis air force base loading my men onto a bird headed back to the Nam.  This time, we're gonna finish this shit.  The funny part is, I'm still carrying the same "pig" I was firing from the bunkers in my nightmare.

My point in this whole article is, you don't have to let a nightmare control your life. You do have the power to make it go away.

YOU ARE A SURVIVOR!  So, Survive!

WarHippy - Lawrence Blouir

Lawrence "WarHippy" Blouir
MOS 63B20 Wheeled Vehicle Mechanic
1st Cavalry Division (AIRMOBILE)
8th Engineer Battalion
1st Air Cavalry Division
24th Duster Battalion
24th Corp Artillery
23rd MP Co.
23rd Infantry Division
Vietnam ’69, ’70, ‘71
The First Team

Bronze Star Medal
Air Medal
Army Commendation Medal

Other Articles by Lawrence (WarHippy) Blouir:

Drugs and The American Soldier in Vietnam
A Worthy Rebuttal on REMFs
The Ultimate Cost of "Freedom"
Memorial Day: The Changes Through Life
A Vietnam Veteran Speaks Out


“I am only one, but I am one. I can't do everything, but I can do something. The something I ought to do, I can do, and by the grace of God, I will.” ~Everett Hale


Feel free to comment on this post. You are also invited to write about anything you want to share. Memoirs From Nam is YOUR blog. You are writing America's history.

Send it to me in an e-mail and I will be proud to post it for you.

DRUGS and The American Soldier in Vietnam

Lawrence "War Hippy" Blouir

by Lawrence "WarHippy" Blouir

I don't imagine this article will help me win any popularity contests with my fellow Vietnam Veterans.

However, since I am a Vietnam Vet, I've never had any aspirations of being popular anyway.  My big struggle was just simply feeling accepted. 

I've noticed that the history of the Nam Vet doesn't say much about drug use.  I have to think it's because we're not proud that some of us used drugs to cope with the insanity of that war.

I'm sure some of my Brothers will say drugs were not tolerated -- they just got guys killed.  I have to think those that said it must have rotated out of the Nam before I arrived, or they are simply in denial of the problem, or maybe they used alcohol to cope instead.  

Whatever their story is, this isn't about THEM.  This is about ME and the Brothers all around me, from Saigon up to the DMZ;  from 1969 until December 1971, when the military forced me to leave Vietnam on a Medevac Bird with the label, "Drug Returnee From Vietnam" attached. 

The Army had a policy that was never publicized, for obvious reasons. If you had a dirty drug test, and they had started surprise drug tests, you were sent to detox, then returned to your unit. 

If you were on an extension, (which I was), you were first sent to detox.  Then you were immediately shipped back to the states.  You had no chance to get your personal effects, and even worse, no chance to say goodbye to the guys you were closer to than family, the guys you knew you'd step in front of an AK round to save. You almost have to be a war vet to understand the bad psychological effects that caused in a person.

The Army Rule:  If you were caught on a drug test and on an extended tour, you must have extended because you were addicted to drugs.  You were immediately sent home. (This was not publicized, because you know how many guys would have used it to their advantage).

My reason for being on an extended tour:  

My first extension leave, I REALLY loved flying and I extended for a spot as a door gunner on a slick. During my leave, I decided that I was gonna keep extending, and I was NEVER gonna come back to this country full of hateful, ungrateful, asswipes -- this country I used to call "home". 

At that time, I hadn't even been introduced to what was called "coke".  Not all of us were there for drugs. I had discovered that you can get used to HELL, if you're forced to stay there long enough. 

I got back to the Nam, and the Battalion Surgeon at 1/9 Cavalry told me I was crazy and he turned down my extension transfer.

Some time after that, one of the guys I smoked pot with, asked if I wanted to do some "coke".  I heard what a good buzz cocaine gave you even before I went to Vietnam, so I said, "Sure, let's do it". It took all my bad feelings away, temporarily, so I kept doing it. 

By the time I found out it wasn't cocaine, I was already feeling the need for it, if I went too long without it. Yeah, this dumb kid started his heroin addiction without even knowing what it was. By then, I didn't care what it was called. I only knew it helped me deal with the Nam, and that's all I cared about.

At this point, I'm sure some self righteous grunts will jump in and say, "We never allowed any drug use out in the bush -- that shit got brothers killed!"  Right on, good for you.  You must have been in-country before me. 

The thing about engineers is, we went out into the bush when the line companies needed to have us there, so I partied with a lot of grunts. I carried a gram vial of "coke".  I can't even count how many line company grunts I partied with that carried a prescription bottle full of "coke", because resupply was less frequent.

By now, you're probably wondering if I spent the rest of my life as a heroin addict.. Well, I spent my first nine months home, a heroin addict on the streets of Cleveland, Ohio. 

We never used heroin intravenously in Vietnam.  There, it was pure and cheap and we smoked, or snorted, it. Back home, it was cut so bad and so expensive, you had to shoot it. 

I got so sick of that lifestyle and after nine months I knew I had to do something.  So, I picked up and moved all the way to LA California, where I'd been raised. Away from the suppliers, I was able to pick myself up, and continue trying to fit back into a society that I had to hide my past from.

This is my story.  It in no way reflects on the honor of my Brothers, who may or may not have chosen drugs as a way to remain sane in an insane environment. Unless you humped a click in our boots, you have no right to judge us anyway. 

Enjoy your Freedom.

Lawrence "WarHippy" Blouir
MOS 63B20 Wheeled Vehicle Mechanic
1st Cavalry Division (AIRMOBILE)
8th Engineer Battalion
1st Air Cavalry Division
24th Duster Battalion
24th Corp Artillery
23rd MP Co.
23rd Infantry Division
Vietnam ’69, ’70, ‘71
The First Team

Bronze Star Medal
Air Medal
Army Commendation Medal

Other Articles by Lawrence (WarHippy) Blouir:

A Worthy Rebuttal on REMFs

The Ultimate Cost of "Freedom"

Memorial Day: The Changes Through Life

A Vietnam Veteran Speaks Out

“I am only one, but I am one. I can't do everything, but I can do something. The something I ought to do, I can do, and by the grace of God, I will.” ~Everett Hale

Do you have an opinion, or a comment, you would like to share about this post? Click on the comment button.