Surviving Combat Memories: Surviving with aftermath of Vietnam War

By Russ Warriner

After serving a 1 ½ year tour in Vietnam with the 1st Cavalry Division and surviving a total of 8 years, 9 months and 21 Days in the US Army, Russ Warriner learned he had PTSD. Dealing with the Combat Memories he calls Combat Demons is a lifelong struggle.

Writing about my combat life and the aftermath has become one of his outlets. Becoming a life member of many veteran groups as well as starting a group that served in my type of unit and starting a POW/MIA weekend event has served me well to deal with the demons.

Everyone who has PTSD deals with these demons in their own way. If this book can help at least one person to understand PTSD or help them deal with their demons, I feel it was worth the effort I put into writing it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Outskirts Press
• Release date: Dec 7, 2022
• ISBN: 9781977260277

Russ Warriner

Russ Warriner is currently living in Easthampton, Massachusetts, where he grew up. He has reconnected with many people from his school years and is a member of several local veterans groups as well as a local Grange. Writing, helping others, and speaking engagements have become important tools in his life.

Book preview

Surviving Combat Memories

Surviving with Aftermath of Vietnam War

All Rights Reserved.

Copyright © 2023 Russ Warriner

v2.0

The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author and do not represent the opinions or thoughts of the publisher. The author has represented and warranted full ownership and/or legal right to publish all the materials in this book.

This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Outskirts Press, Inc.

http://www.outskirtspress.com

ISBN: 978-1-9772-6027-7

Cover Photo © 2023 Russ Warriner. All rights reserved - used with permission.

Outskirts Press and the OP logo are trademarks belonging to Outskirts Press, Inc.

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

PREFACE

The contents of this book are to show how my life has changed by the experiences I received during my time serving for our country and how I handled it. In short those of us who served our country be it in war or on the front lines to make our country better have suffered the consequences.

Physical injuries be them internal or external caused by hostile environments and enemy gunfire are visual remnants of war. However, many mental injuries go unnoticed because they're deep inside the minds of those involved. Because we're all comrades, I'd like to share with you my pathway and how this has affected my life. In combat I spent many hours in the back seat of a Huey gunship helicopter and on the ground protecting those I served with.

I wrote this book in the hope it will help bring some understanding to the reader about PTSD and how it is everlasting on all involved.

I believe that no two people standing in the same area at the same time would remember something the same. My experiences are more than 50 years ago yet I still remember many of them as if they were yesterday.

Many things happened that most likely will forever be etched in the memories of those who served that will never be told. Family members will never hear many of these memories as they are deep in the minds of those who served and many more will never be put on paper.

I hope that you enjoy this book. My hope is it gives you a little better understanding of these experiences. It is meant to show how I handled the situation and how it changed my life forever.

Everyone that tells a story usually catches what I call incoming. I'm sure that this book will be no exception to the rule. Therefore, I have my helmet on even though it's already full of holes from the flak I've received.

DEDICATION

I dedicate this book to all the men and women of the United States armed forces that suffer from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder and other wounds received from serving in any war as well as for their willingness to serve and protect our great country, especially those veterans who gave their lives to make our country safe for our families.

FOREWARD

When you have lived well into your seventh decade, you often spend time looking back at your life and the events that shaped the pathway you followed. For me and many of my generation that pathway was directly influenced by the actions of our government towards a small country in Southeast Asia known as Vietnam. I am proud to say I served my country and was one of those thousands of young men who enlisted in the armed forces as we faced are overwhelming question of whether our number was come up in the annual draft.

School, politics, or a deferment of any kind was not an option and thinking about it now, I guess I thought that if I kept my head down and my hands busy, I'd be home and unaffected at the end of the 12 months tour. My recruiter had told me that if I became a helicopter mechanic that most likely I would be in a base camp. I had no idea how wrong I was.

I served in the U.S. army from March 1967 until November 1975 and worked as a mechanic on helicopters. Along the way I extended my tour in Vietnam with a six-month extension as well as my tour in Korea with three six-month extensions. I had served with the First Cavalry Division from November 1967 – June 1969 and served on a helicopter as a door gunner/crew chief for most of my tour in Vietnam. Looking back at my service time it is safe to say this shaped the rest of my life. This novel is based on historical events and how I handled my post-traumatic stress after serving.

I wrote this as a way of helping others too show how I handled my combat demons that were deep within my mind.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

The author is grateful to following persons for their help: my wife Terri Warriner who was by my side through thick and thin until her passing. Without her I would not be where I am today. I wish to thank all those who helped me through the years and supported me with my first book Empty Tubes and Backseat Memories.

Thank you to all the alumni from the ARA association that encouraged me to make this book possible.

A special thanks to all the pilots and listed men I with. They gave me their side of stories and permission to use their names. This made my books as close to the facts as possible. Without their input to jog my memory I'm sure my writings would never have gone to print.

I wish to thank Vickie Drew for her help editing this manuscript.

I would like to acknowledge my junior high school teacher Mrs. Anna B Curtis affectionately known to all as (ABC) who instilled the basic knowledge of literature and writing.

Without her, I know that I would be seriously lacking in this kills the right any book.

A special thank you to Joe Kline for his permission to use his artwork for the cover of this book. Joe Kline artwork can be found on his website: https://joeklineart.com/

TABLE OF CONTENTS

PREFACE

DEDICATION

FORWARD

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

CHAPTER

1. ANOTHER BAD DREAM

2. THE BEGINNING

3. VIETNAM TOUR

4. QUAN LOI AIRFIELD

5. STATESIDE DUTY BEGINS

6. OFF TO KOREA

7. ADJUSTING TO STATESIDE DUTY

8. STARTING CIVILAIN LIFE OVER

9. DISCOVERY MODE

10. LIFE COMES FULL CIRCLE

11. RESULTS VERY

12. FACING THE DEMONS

13. STEPS TAKEN

14. UNDERSTANDING PTSD

15. PTSD AFFECTS ON OTHERS

EPILOGE

.1.

ANOTHER BAD DREAM

It was another cold wintery night in New England. I was having another bad night. I was trying hard not to wake my wife. Suddenly, I sat up. Even though the room was cool, and I was not under the covers, I was soaking in sweat. Had I disturbed my wife? I was afraid to look, but when I turned, the answer was clear. She was standing near the bed staring at me.

As she fired questions at me, it was obvious that my restlessness had disturbed her sleep, Did you have another bad dream? What were you dreaming? Where were you? You must have been back in combat. You know that you need to write down what you remember so you can tell Doctor Lenard. Where is your paper and pencil?

Even though I knew that I had had another bad dream, I tried to hide that fact. I pretended that I did not know about any dream and said, I am just having a tough time sleeping because of the weather. I did not hook the plow onto the truck last night. You know that I need to plow, and I hate hooking up the plow in the middle of a storm. I hear this is going to be a MASSIVE storm.

I am sure my wife was ready for the answer that I had given her because of her comment. I am sure you know you had a bad dream. Your thrashing forced me out of bed. You need to acknowledge the fact you had a bad dream. Do you remember any of it? Write it down before you forget what it was about.

It angered me that she knew about my nightmares and that she knew I had to keep track of these dreams. How did she know that I needed to keep track of the dreams? Furthermore, how would my wife or anyone else knowing about my dreams going to help them stop? I replied sharply, I don’t remember anything about what I was dreaming! What is keeping track of any *#@*#*@ dream going to do to stop them? Now I was boiling mad for another reason. I did not like to swear around women, my wife or loved ones, yet it had slipped out as it had on other occasions. I told the truth; I had no idea what I was dreaming. However, a part of me wished that something inside me would let me remember. It was storming outside, but the storm within me was more like a blizzard.

Storming out of the bedroom, I slipped my jacket and boots and headed for my truck. It had started to storm hard, and I wanted to hook the plow on before the snow got too deep. As I tried to line up with the plow, I was fuming inside to the point that I could not see straight.

I was so mad that every time I tried to line up with the plow, I kept missing it, but finally managed to line up enough to get the first pin in. Now, I needed to get the other pin in. Using the lift chain, I took the weight off the plow. Grabbing the end of the plow, I gave it a yank, managed to pull it into alignment, and dropped the second pin into place. Getting back into the truck, I went to hoist the plow and noticed that I forgot to move the lift chain into the proper position. All this did was to make me more upset.

As I got out of the truck to adjust the lift chain, my wife stuck her head out of