The Dream

In a VA Hospital

by Dave Stromire

There was a gentle breeze, rustling through golden wheat like grass. Each time the wind would pick up a little, it would expose bright shiny silver wires. Sparkling from the warmth of the bright midday sun.  At the end of each wire was a mine or grenade also shining, as if each one had just been polished.  It was if our enemy was showing off their display of deadly handy work.

Passed down through many generations of war.

Just as our platoon had finished maneuvering through this sacred area of graves and mines. We were hit, and hit hard by the VC, who were behind those grave mounds near the edge of a nearby village.

They had us all in the open. Each one hitting their target true.  We managed to get behind other mounds. Graves of our foes, killed here before.  The fire-fight lasted for hours. We were losing. The dead were lined up and covered with ponchos. Sweat pouring from my face in this hot humid Sun, stinging my eyes to near blindness. My right leg was swollen and aching. The only way to relieve the pain was to scoot around on my butt with my leg elevated. I was not hit, I checked.  I was very confused as to why there was so much pain.

What was left of the platoon, stood up in anger and gave all they had left? It was working.  The battle was changing to favor us. We still had plenty of ammo. The VC were out. Nothing left to shoot at us. Just then, a doctor dressed in his white overcoat and stethoscope, called Time Out! This has got to be fair! He shouted.  Then he began to pass out ammo to our enemy. He disappeared as fast as he showed up? Rockets and motors were hitting all around us.  Every one had dug a hole. Not me, I had loaned out my e-tool to another Marine. I was by myself in the open.  I heard someone shout incoming. Then I heard that shrieking sound of a rocket screaming in. The whole sky lit up in a bright white flash!

At that very same moment the Nurse opened the door and hit the light switch. I dove for the floor, ripping out my I-V as the nurse walked in. Behind her was an entourage of Medical Students, Nurses and a Doctor. Wearing a white overcoat and stethoscope after I was helped back in my bed. Embarrassed and confused. I had remembered where I was, and why.  My leg had been infected by a peace of shrapnel that had moved from near my knee, to my inner calf.  My bed was completely surrounded by Medical students from the University Hospital next door. The Doctor rambled on about me, as if I was not even there. I was just nothing to them.

This made me more angry. Not only did I just survive another fire fight. I have had this same dream many times. But now I had to put up with this garbage.  I totally lost it. I still had a lot of anger. I told them what I thought. I asked to be checked out of the hospital. They wanted me to stay longer and let my leg heal again, from the inside. I told them I was leaving, with or without any permission. I was given Band-Aid type stitches and plenty of dressings to take care of it at home. So I left that very day. Carrying with me a 1 by 1 centimeter Peace of shrapnel in a vial.

Two months later, I received an award letter from the Veterans Administration Regional Office. They said I have a nervous condition. And they were actually going to compensate me for it. The VA sent the award letter with directions to a Vet Center and an appointment to see a psychologist. This was in the late Seventies and PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder) was not even heard of in my state of Oregon. I would be one of the first. I ignored both.

Not realizing that the recurring dream I had, while in the VA Hospital, would soon become many years of HELL in the VA’s mental health care system. That was just a dream. The last twenty years I was in the VA hospital more then out. Caught in a system of guinea pigs for drugs that Cure PTSD?  This was the NIGHTMARE! My next Story...