REVEILLE
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During the Civil War, the condition was known as Soldier's Heart.
During the first World War, there was a belief that the changes in air pressure created by
exploding bombs caused physical harm to the nerves and the problem became known as Shell
Shock.
In World War II, it was learned that "breakdowm" could occur in anyone who was in battle
long enough. The new label became Combat Fatigue. Since 1980, the name Post Traumatic Stress
Disorder (PTSD) has been the official diagnosis for the physical and psychological effects of
overwhelming events such as those survived by combat veterans.
Anyone can develop PTSD. The magnitude of the trauma survived by the person is more
important in developing PTSD than the initial strength or psychological fitness of the survivor.
The “trauma" causing PTSD is defined as an event in which the person experiences, witnesses, or
confronts actual or threatened death, or serious injury to self or others. The person responds with
fear, helplessness, or horror - the common feelings of combat. Soldiers are wounded, they see
trusted comrades "blown away" while they are unable to do anything to prevent or change what
has happened.
Clyde Q.
Corporal, USMC (R),
South Korea, 1950-1951
For the past three years, save for my medication Doxepin and Clonazepam, I cannot sleep at
night. My wife understands my condition and gives me moral support. But will it ever stop?
The horrible past has raised its ugly head. Now I live in painful memories. Each day I ask
myself, how much longer will it last? My only solace is God, my wife, and my VA psychiatrist.
I'll never forget my close friends who had their limbs blown off, screaming and crying as they
were being evacuated from the front lines. They were young Marines that I had gone on liberty
with in Osaka, Japan, while we waited to be embarked aboard an LST for the invasion of Inchon,
South Korea.
When the enemy artillery projectiles began to explode around us, I was among them ... and
received only a concussion. Deep inside, I now feel guilty that it was my friends who died, and
not me. Why was I left to live, when so many good men died?
In my dreams I recall the rugged terrain of the Taebeck Mountains in subzero cold, covered
with snow and ice. I see two Marines, both wounded and trying to make their way to the casualty
station. Each is supporting the other. As they struggle to stay on their feet, they are dragging a
dead Marine behind them. The dead Marine is frozen stiff as a board.
That dream haunts me. Perhaps if I had been with them instead of where I was, maybe my
additional firepower would have helped to make a difference.