I'm very busy working on a variety of projects this summer, which I hope will bear fruit in the fall, so I'm going to have to cut back on the frequency of my posts here for the next few months.
I will post every Friday.
Thanks for your support!
___________________
Blog updated every Friday
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Monday, June 27, 2011
Former Vietnam War antagonists buddy up during UT Dallas lecture
Pegasus News: Former Vietnam War antagonists buddy up during UT Dallas lecture
It was a surreal scene in the Jonsson Performance Hall at the University of Texas at Dallas (UTD) Saturday afternoon as a trio of air combatants from the Vietnam War came together, embraced like old friends, and traded tales of air combat.
Why surreal? Because one of the airmen involved flew a MIG-21 for the North Vietnamese; one of the American airmen shot him down; and the other American was shot down by him.
Brig. Gen. Dan Cherry, USAF (Ret.) was flying his F-4D Phantom on a combat mission over North Vietnam in April 1972 when he and his wingman became involved in a dogfight with a MIG flown (Cherry later discovered) by Lt. Nguyen Hong My. The ensuing air battle was chronicled in a digital reenactment which aired on the History Channel program, Dogfights (Episode: "Hell Over Hanoi"). During the back-and-forth maneuver-and-shoot engagement, Cherry and his wingman loosed no fewer than five guided missiles at the MIG; Hong My was able to elude all but the last of them, employing a secret strategy practiced by North Vietnamese pilots during their training sessions.
(Speaking through an interpreter, Hong My attempted to explain the evasive maneuver strategy; to the best of my understanding, it involved waiting for the missile to begin tracking one's flight path and then veering sharply away from it. Seems pretty straightforward.)
The final missile launched by Cherry found its target, blowing the right wing off Hong My's plane. (Hong My explained through his interpreter that the reason he wasn't able to evade that one was because he didn't see the telltale flash of the missile's ignition, and thus could not time his evasive maneuver.)
As documented in the History Channel reenactment, Cherry saw the MIG pilot parachuting safely away from the falling aircraft as he flew away. What he couldn't have known at the time was that Hong My's ejection did not go smoothly — both his arms were broken against the frame of his aircraft's canopy as he rocketed clear. Unable to control his parachute, he ended up compressing three vertebrae on impact with the ground. (He spent six months in the hospital recovering, and then went back to flying combat missions.) After the war, Hong My enjoyed a successful career in the insurance business.
Cherry's Phantom (designated 550) went on to serve another pilot on air patrol in Korea, and was eventually retired from service; it ended up standing proudly in front of a VFW post in a small town in Ohio, where Cherry and some friends stumbled across it by happy accident. Sadly, by 2005, the jet was in bad repair, having been more or less splattered beyond recognition by the local bird population. Cherry and his associates resolved to restore his trusty F-4 and received Air Force approval to transport it to his home town of Bowling Green, Ky., where they made it the centerpiece of an open-air museum called Aviation Heritage Park.
It was during their restoration efforts that Cherry and his friends began speculating about what might have happened to the North Vietnamese pilot he shot down back in 1972. Was he still alive? Could there be a way to identify him? Cherry put out some feelers, and before long, a popular TV hostess in Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon) contacted him to let him know the man was indeed alive and well — and oh, by the way, would Cherry like to come to Vietnam and meet him during a live TV broadcast?
Cherry would, and did, and was later invited to a celebratory dinner at Hong My's home in Hanoi. The two flew by commercial airline over terrain they'd both patrolled during wartime. Hong My toured Cherry around the city; at one point they visited the museum that now occupies the "Hanoi Hilton," which served as a prison for captured American soldiers during the war.
(In a touching reminiscence, Cherry told how Hong My hung back in silent respect while Cherry examined the photographs of American prisoners to see if he recognized anyone. He did.)
During their time together, Cherry noticed that Hong My wore a medal indicating that he'd shot down an enemy aircraft. Before leaving Vietnam, Hong My asked Cherry to assist him with his goal of visiting the United States, and of discovering the identity of the air crew whose plane he'd shot down. Hong My feared that the occupants of the aircraft had been killed.
Using the date and location information provided by Hong My, Cherry was able to track down Lt. John Stiles, USAF (Ret.), who served as navigator aboard the RF-4C Hong My hit with a missile in January of 1972 over North Vietnam. (The pilot of Stiles' plane — Bob Mock — also survived the encounter, but sadly passed away only a couple of months before Cherry began searching for his identity.) Mock and Stiles astonishingly survived a low-altitude bail-out with only minor injuries. Two days after they were rescued by an Air American chopper (whose pilot, Bob Noble, sat in the UTD audience on Saturday, listening to Stiles' account), Mock and Stiles were back in the air flying reconnaissance missions.
Reluctantly, Stiles agreed to meet with Hong My during his U.S. visit. Stiles and Mock had always thought they'd been hit by a surface-to-air missile, but after sitting down with Hong My (and his interpreter) over lunch, Stiles realized that they'd been wrong: Hong My told him things about the incident that only someone who was there could have known. His meeting with Hong My proved a cathartic experience, and — just like Cherry — Stiles found himself burying the hatchet with his wartime antagonist.
Hong My has now visited the U.S. on four occasions. During a recent visit to Bowling Green's Aviation Heritage Park he became the first pilot in history to sit in the actual cockpit of the aircraft that shot him down — Dan Cherry's immaculately restored F-4D 550.
Through his interpreter, Hong My described his emotions while visiting the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington D.C., where the names of 58,000+ U.S. service members who died in Vietnam/South East Asia — and those who remain missing in action — are inscribed. He then spoke of his countrymen who died during the war, a figure he estimated at seven million. He invited the audience to stand for a moment of silence in memory of those on both sides of the conflict who fought and died.
I've got to admit, it was more than a little odd seeing an auditorium peppered with U.S. military veterans applauding a North Vietnamese battle veteran. Dan Cherry, who wrote a book about the whole thing, closed the program by emphasizing the futility of grudges when faced with the power of friendship.
Hong My, when he was first handed a copy of Cherry's book, expressed his disappointment over its title (My Enemy, My Friend). As he told Cherry:
"I don't think you and I were ever enemies. We were just soldiers doing the best we could for our countries during a very difficult time."
It was a surreal scene in the Jonsson Performance Hall at the University of Texas at Dallas (UTD) Saturday afternoon as a trio of air combatants from the Vietnam War came together, embraced like old friends, and traded tales of air combat.
Why surreal? Because one of the airmen involved flew a MIG-21 for the North Vietnamese; one of the American airmen shot him down; and the other American was shot down by him.
Brig. Gen. Dan Cherry, USAF (Ret.) was flying his F-4D Phantom on a combat mission over North Vietnam in April 1972 when he and his wingman became involved in a dogfight with a MIG flown (Cherry later discovered) by Lt. Nguyen Hong My. The ensuing air battle was chronicled in a digital reenactment which aired on the History Channel program, Dogfights (Episode: "Hell Over Hanoi"). During the back-and-forth maneuver-and-shoot engagement, Cherry and his wingman loosed no fewer than five guided missiles at the MIG; Hong My was able to elude all but the last of them, employing a secret strategy practiced by North Vietnamese pilots during their training sessions.
(Speaking through an interpreter, Hong My attempted to explain the evasive maneuver strategy; to the best of my understanding, it involved waiting for the missile to begin tracking one's flight path and then veering sharply away from it. Seems pretty straightforward.)
The final missile launched by Cherry found its target, blowing the right wing off Hong My's plane. (Hong My explained through his interpreter that the reason he wasn't able to evade that one was because he didn't see the telltale flash of the missile's ignition, and thus could not time his evasive maneuver.)
As documented in the History Channel reenactment, Cherry saw the MIG pilot parachuting safely away from the falling aircraft as he flew away. What he couldn't have known at the time was that Hong My's ejection did not go smoothly — both his arms were broken against the frame of his aircraft's canopy as he rocketed clear. Unable to control his parachute, he ended up compressing three vertebrae on impact with the ground. (He spent six months in the hospital recovering, and then went back to flying combat missions.) After the war, Hong My enjoyed a successful career in the insurance business.
Cherry's Phantom (designated 550) went on to serve another pilot on air patrol in Korea, and was eventually retired from service; it ended up standing proudly in front of a VFW post in a small town in Ohio, where Cherry and some friends stumbled across it by happy accident. Sadly, by 2005, the jet was in bad repair, having been more or less splattered beyond recognition by the local bird population. Cherry and his associates resolved to restore his trusty F-4 and received Air Force approval to transport it to his home town of Bowling Green, Ky., where they made it the centerpiece of an open-air museum called Aviation Heritage Park.
It was during their restoration efforts that Cherry and his friends began speculating about what might have happened to the North Vietnamese pilot he shot down back in 1972. Was he still alive? Could there be a way to identify him? Cherry put out some feelers, and before long, a popular TV hostess in Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon) contacted him to let him know the man was indeed alive and well — and oh, by the way, would Cherry like to come to Vietnam and meet him during a live TV broadcast?
Cherry would, and did, and was later invited to a celebratory dinner at Hong My's home in Hanoi. The two flew by commercial airline over terrain they'd both patrolled during wartime. Hong My toured Cherry around the city; at one point they visited the museum that now occupies the "Hanoi Hilton," which served as a prison for captured American soldiers during the war.
(In a touching reminiscence, Cherry told how Hong My hung back in silent respect while Cherry examined the photographs of American prisoners to see if he recognized anyone. He did.)
During their time together, Cherry noticed that Hong My wore a medal indicating that he'd shot down an enemy aircraft. Before leaving Vietnam, Hong My asked Cherry to assist him with his goal of visiting the United States, and of discovering the identity of the air crew whose plane he'd shot down. Hong My feared that the occupants of the aircraft had been killed.
Using the date and location information provided by Hong My, Cherry was able to track down Lt. John Stiles, USAF (Ret.), who served as navigator aboard the RF-4C Hong My hit with a missile in January of 1972 over North Vietnam. (The pilot of Stiles' plane — Bob Mock — also survived the encounter, but sadly passed away only a couple of months before Cherry began searching for his identity.) Mock and Stiles astonishingly survived a low-altitude bail-out with only minor injuries. Two days after they were rescued by an Air American chopper (whose pilot, Bob Noble, sat in the UTD audience on Saturday, listening to Stiles' account), Mock and Stiles were back in the air flying reconnaissance missions.
Reluctantly, Stiles agreed to meet with Hong My during his U.S. visit. Stiles and Mock had always thought they'd been hit by a surface-to-air missile, but after sitting down with Hong My (and his interpreter) over lunch, Stiles realized that they'd been wrong: Hong My told him things about the incident that only someone who was there could have known. His meeting with Hong My proved a cathartic experience, and — just like Cherry — Stiles found himself burying the hatchet with his wartime antagonist.
Hong My has now visited the U.S. on four occasions. During a recent visit to Bowling Green's Aviation Heritage Park he became the first pilot in history to sit in the actual cockpit of the aircraft that shot him down — Dan Cherry's immaculately restored F-4D 550.
Through his interpreter, Hong My described his emotions while visiting the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington D.C., where the names of 58,000+ U.S. service members who died in Vietnam/South East Asia — and those who remain missing in action — are inscribed. He then spoke of his countrymen who died during the war, a figure he estimated at seven million. He invited the audience to stand for a moment of silence in memory of those on both sides of the conflict who fought and died.
I've got to admit, it was more than a little odd seeing an auditorium peppered with U.S. military veterans applauding a North Vietnamese battle veteran. Dan Cherry, who wrote a book about the whole thing, closed the program by emphasizing the futility of grudges when faced with the power of friendship.
Hong My, when he was first handed a copy of Cherry's book, expressed his disappointment over its title (My Enemy, My Friend). As he told Cherry:
"I don't think you and I were ever enemies. We were just soldiers doing the best we could for our countries during a very difficult time."
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Vietnam and US in joint venture to clean up Agent Orange damage
Guardian.co.uk: Vietnam and US in joint venture to clean up Agent Orange damage
Vietnam started the first phase of a joint plan with the US on Friday to clean up environmental damage caused by the chemical defoliant Agent Orange, a lasting legacy of the Vietnam war.
The work concentrates on a former US military base in central Vietnam, where the defoliant was stored during the war that ended more than three decades ago.
It is the first time the two sides have worked together on the ground to clean up contamination.
A statement by the US embassy in Hanoi said Vietnam's ministry of defence will begin sweeping areas near the Da Nang airport for unexploded ordnance. It will then work with the US Agency for International Development to remove dioxin – a chemical used in Agent Orange – from soil and sediment at the site. This action is expected to begin early next year.
US aircraft sprayed millions of gallons of the chemical over South Vietnam during the war to destroy guerrilla fighters' jungle cover.
Contamination from dioxin which has been linked to cancers and birth defects – has remained a thorny topic between the former foes. Washington was slow to respond to the issue, arguing for years that more research was needed to show that the wartime spraying caused health problems and disabilities among Vietnamese.
Virginia Palmer, the US embassy chargé d'affaires, said: "As secretary of state Hillary Clinton remarked while visiting Vietnam last October, the dioxin in the ground here is 'a legacy of the painful past we share', but the project we will undertake here, as our two nations work hand-in-hand to clean up this site, is a sign of the hopeful future we are building together."
The $32m (£19.7m) project will remove dioxin from 29 hectares (71 acres) of land at the Da Nang site. A 2009 study of the area by the Canadian environmental firm Hatfield Consultants found chemical levels that were 300 to 400 times higher than international limits.
Two other former US airbases in the southern locations of Bien Hoa and Phu Cat also have been identified as sites where the defoliant was mixed, stored and loaded onto planes during the war, allowing spilled dioxin to seep into the soil and water systems.
Vietnam's Red Cross estimates up to 3 million Vietnamese have suffered health-related problems from Agent Orange exposure. The US has said the number is far lower and that other health and environmental factors are likely to blame for many illnesses and disabilities.
Vietnam started the first phase of a joint plan with the US on Friday to clean up environmental damage caused by the chemical defoliant Agent Orange, a lasting legacy of the Vietnam war.
The work concentrates on a former US military base in central Vietnam, where the defoliant was stored during the war that ended more than three decades ago.
It is the first time the two sides have worked together on the ground to clean up contamination.
A statement by the US embassy in Hanoi said Vietnam's ministry of defence will begin sweeping areas near the Da Nang airport for unexploded ordnance. It will then work with the US Agency for International Development to remove dioxin – a chemical used in Agent Orange – from soil and sediment at the site. This action is expected to begin early next year.
US aircraft sprayed millions of gallons of the chemical over South Vietnam during the war to destroy guerrilla fighters' jungle cover.
Contamination from dioxin which has been linked to cancers and birth defects – has remained a thorny topic between the former foes. Washington was slow to respond to the issue, arguing for years that more research was needed to show that the wartime spraying caused health problems and disabilities among Vietnamese.
Virginia Palmer, the US embassy chargé d'affaires, said: "As secretary of state Hillary Clinton remarked while visiting Vietnam last October, the dioxin in the ground here is 'a legacy of the painful past we share', but the project we will undertake here, as our two nations work hand-in-hand to clean up this site, is a sign of the hopeful future we are building together."
The $32m (£19.7m) project will remove dioxin from 29 hectares (71 acres) of land at the Da Nang site. A 2009 study of the area by the Canadian environmental firm Hatfield Consultants found chemical levels that were 300 to 400 times higher than international limits.
Two other former US airbases in the southern locations of Bien Hoa and Phu Cat also have been identified as sites where the defoliant was mixed, stored and loaded onto planes during the war, allowing spilled dioxin to seep into the soil and water systems.
Vietnam's Red Cross estimates up to 3 million Vietnamese have suffered health-related problems from Agent Orange exposure. The US has said the number is far lower and that other health and environmental factors are likely to blame for many illnesses and disabilities.
Friday, June 17, 2011
New York Army National Guard's Last Vietnam War Pilot Takes Final Flight
ReadMedia.com: New York Army National Guard's Last Vietnam War Pilot Takes Final Flight
LATHAM, NY (06/16/2011)(readMedia)-- The New York Army National Guard's last Vietnam War pilot took his final light Tuesday June 14.
In 29 years of Army flying-he was out of the military from 1972 to 1985-Chief Warrant Officer 5 Steven Derry amassed more than 3000 hours in UH-1 "Hueys", AH-1 Cobra attack helicopters, and the UH-60 Blackhawk. He spent 10 months in Vietnam in 1971 and 1972 and then went back to war twice; serving in Iraq in 2005 and again in 2008/2009.
He's enjoyed the people, and he's enjoyed the flying, and he's enjoyed serving his country, but everything needs to come to an end, Derry said. At his age-he's 59--- it's harder to fly using night vision goggles and to keep up with the younger Soldiers, he said.
So on June 14,--after 3,000 hours in the air Derry took one more flight out of the facility he's operated at for 20 years, and when he came back two hours later he was done.
Derry's been an "icon" at the Army Aviation Support Facility here since he joined the New York Army National Guard in 1988, said Maj. Kevin Ferreira, the facility Officer in Charge.
"In my last 11 years here I have been with Chief Derry through (deployments to) Nicaragua, Honduras, Bosnia and Iraq," said Ferreira, who is also Operations Officer for the 3rd Battalion 142nd Aviation Regiment. "He has been there and done it all. There's a tremendous amount of experience for the young aviators coming here that we are going to lose."
As Derry's UH-60 taxied back to the Army hanger two fire trucks from Albany International Airport sprayed water over the spinning rotors and two lines of aviation Soldiers and TV cameras stood ready to welcome him back for the last time.
When he exited the aircraft he was ambushed by two Soldiers carrying the traditional bottles of Champagne to wet him down with.
"It's bittersweet," Derry said about his last flight.
A New Jersey native, Derry joined the Army in 1969 to fly helicopters. After learning the basics in the TH-55 --a training helicopter powered by a reciprocating engine-Derry wound up flying combat missions in UH-1 H helicopters with the 23rd " Americal" Division and the 1st Cavalry Division in Vietnam. On one of those missions-insertion of a Vietnamese Army unit into an LZ-an enemy round went through the control panel and wound up bouncing off the knee of the aircraft commander.
When he returned from Vietnam in March of 1972 Derry planned to make the Army his career. The Army had other ideas, and he was released into the Individual Ready Reserve in the drawdown that followed the end of the Vietnam War.
For the next 13 years Derry followed a civilian career path, working at a bank and then at a rubber manufacturing company. But in 1985 he and his wife Penelope were camping when he ran into a recruiter from the New Jersey Army National Guard. They got to talking and later that year he was back in uniform, in the 1st Battalion 150th Aviation: flying the same UH-1H helicopters he'd flown into combat in Vietnam.
In 1988 Derry's civilian life brought him to New York and he transferred to the 1st Battalion 142nd Aviation and learned to fly AH-1 "Cobra" attack helicopters. He flew the F, G and S model of the AH-1, before the unit converted to UH-60 Blackhawk troop carrying helicopters in 1995 and became the 3rd Battalion 142nd Aviation.
When the unit sent helicopters and pilots to Iceland for an exercise in 1997 Derry went with him. When the 3-142nd deployed to Honduras in 1999 and Nicaragua in 2002, Derry went with them. When the 3-142nd was tapped for peacekeeping in Bosnia in 2002/2003, Derry was part of that mission as well.
He was barely back from the deployment to Bosnia when the 42nd Combat Aviation Brigade was tapped to deploy with the 42nd Infantry Division as part of Operation Iraqi Freedom III in 2004. Derry spent almost 20 months on active duty serving as the brigade tactical operations officer and flying helicopters when he could from Forward Operating Base Speicher outside Tikret.
In 2008 the 3-142nd headed back to Iraq and Derry went along again, serving as the Air Movement Request Cell OIC and managing the helicopters support the 10th Mountain Division Commander.
They told me I could fly some more, but I was just too busy doing everything else, he recalled.
Derry, a New York State corrections officer in civilian life, the father of two grown children, and a grandfather as well, will finish up his current active duty tour supporting the 42nd Combat Aviation Brigade's CBRNE Consequence Management Force mission and retire in September.
The world of Army Aviation has changed a lot since he was a young man in Vietnam, Derry said.
For one thing, he said, today's pilots "carry a lot more stuff."
"Back then when I went out to the aircraft I carried my helmet, a grease pencil, and a map of my area. Now it is my helmet and it is the IFR (Instrument Flight Rules ) supplements for just about the entire company and the moving map (A computer ized map readout worn on the knee)," Derry said.
One thing that hasn't changed is pilots, Derry said.
"It's pretty much the same. They just want to fly," he said
LATHAM, NY (06/16/2011)(readMedia)-- The New York Army National Guard's last Vietnam War pilot took his final light Tuesday June 14.
In 29 years of Army flying-he was out of the military from 1972 to 1985-Chief Warrant Officer 5 Steven Derry amassed more than 3000 hours in UH-1 "Hueys", AH-1 Cobra attack helicopters, and the UH-60 Blackhawk. He spent 10 months in Vietnam in 1971 and 1972 and then went back to war twice; serving in Iraq in 2005 and again in 2008/2009.
He's enjoyed the people, and he's enjoyed the flying, and he's enjoyed serving his country, but everything needs to come to an end, Derry said. At his age-he's 59--- it's harder to fly using night vision goggles and to keep up with the younger Soldiers, he said.
So on June 14,--after 3,000 hours in the air Derry took one more flight out of the facility he's operated at for 20 years, and when he came back two hours later he was done.
Derry's been an "icon" at the Army Aviation Support Facility here since he joined the New York Army National Guard in 1988, said Maj. Kevin Ferreira, the facility Officer in Charge.
"In my last 11 years here I have been with Chief Derry through (deployments to) Nicaragua, Honduras, Bosnia and Iraq," said Ferreira, who is also Operations Officer for the 3rd Battalion 142nd Aviation Regiment. "He has been there and done it all. There's a tremendous amount of experience for the young aviators coming here that we are going to lose."
As Derry's UH-60 taxied back to the Army hanger two fire trucks from Albany International Airport sprayed water over the spinning rotors and two lines of aviation Soldiers and TV cameras stood ready to welcome him back for the last time.
When he exited the aircraft he was ambushed by two Soldiers carrying the traditional bottles of Champagne to wet him down with.
"It's bittersweet," Derry said about his last flight.
A New Jersey native, Derry joined the Army in 1969 to fly helicopters. After learning the basics in the TH-55 --a training helicopter powered by a reciprocating engine-Derry wound up flying combat missions in UH-1 H helicopters with the 23rd " Americal" Division and the 1st Cavalry Division in Vietnam. On one of those missions-insertion of a Vietnamese Army unit into an LZ-an enemy round went through the control panel and wound up bouncing off the knee of the aircraft commander.
When he returned from Vietnam in March of 1972 Derry planned to make the Army his career. The Army had other ideas, and he was released into the Individual Ready Reserve in the drawdown that followed the end of the Vietnam War.
For the next 13 years Derry followed a civilian career path, working at a bank and then at a rubber manufacturing company. But in 1985 he and his wife Penelope were camping when he ran into a recruiter from the New Jersey Army National Guard. They got to talking and later that year he was back in uniform, in the 1st Battalion 150th Aviation: flying the same UH-1H helicopters he'd flown into combat in Vietnam.
In 1988 Derry's civilian life brought him to New York and he transferred to the 1st Battalion 142nd Aviation and learned to fly AH-1 "Cobra" attack helicopters. He flew the F, G and S model of the AH-1, before the unit converted to UH-60 Blackhawk troop carrying helicopters in 1995 and became the 3rd Battalion 142nd Aviation.
When the unit sent helicopters and pilots to Iceland for an exercise in 1997 Derry went with him. When the 3-142nd deployed to Honduras in 1999 and Nicaragua in 2002, Derry went with them. When the 3-142nd was tapped for peacekeeping in Bosnia in 2002/2003, Derry was part of that mission as well.
He was barely back from the deployment to Bosnia when the 42nd Combat Aviation Brigade was tapped to deploy with the 42nd Infantry Division as part of Operation Iraqi Freedom III in 2004. Derry spent almost 20 months on active duty serving as the brigade tactical operations officer and flying helicopters when he could from Forward Operating Base Speicher outside Tikret.
In 2008 the 3-142nd headed back to Iraq and Derry went along again, serving as the Air Movement Request Cell OIC and managing the helicopters support the 10th Mountain Division Commander.
They told me I could fly some more, but I was just too busy doing everything else, he recalled.
Derry, a New York State corrections officer in civilian life, the father of two grown children, and a grandfather as well, will finish up his current active duty tour supporting the 42nd Combat Aviation Brigade's CBRNE Consequence Management Force mission and retire in September.
The world of Army Aviation has changed a lot since he was a young man in Vietnam, Derry said.
For one thing, he said, today's pilots "carry a lot more stuff."
"Back then when I went out to the aircraft I carried my helmet, a grease pencil, and a map of my area. Now it is my helmet and it is the IFR (Instrument Flight Rules ) supplements for just about the entire company and the moving map (A computer ized map readout worn on the knee)," Derry said.
One thing that hasn't changed is pilots, Derry said.
"It's pretty much the same. They just want to fly," he said
Suburban Vietnam veterans reflect on historic '86 parade
DailyHerald: Suburban Vietnam veterans reflect on historic '86 parade
When he returned home to Antioch in 1970 after serving in the Vietnam War, Terrill “Joker” Banser went through some tough times.
He said he became an alcoholic, had two failed marriages, struggled to control his anger and was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder.
It wasn't until 16 years later, when he marched in the Welcome Home Vietnam Veterans Parade in Chicago in June 1986 — with more than 200,000 other veterans and their families — that his life started to turn around.
“I started my own personal healing after that parade. I was proud of being a Vietnam vet, finally,” said Banser, who now lives in Lake Geneva, Wis. “It was a turning point for me ... and I think it was a turning point for the country.”
Other suburban veterans agree, saying even though the parade came more than a decade late, it helped heal their emotional wounds, shift the public's perception about Vietnam War veterans, and convey the importance of welcoming soldiers home with the honor, respect and gratitude they deserve.
This weekend, the 25-year anniversary of that historic parade will be celebrated in Chicago at Welcome Home 2011. There will be presentations, concerts, military unit reunions, art and photo exhibits, and a display of the Vietnam Moving Wall, which contains the names of the more than 58,000 American soldiers killed in the controversial war.
Most events are free and open to the public. For a full schedule, see serviceandhonor.org.
Naperville Vietnam War veteran Jack Schiffler, who helped organize both the 1986 parade and this weekend's celebration, said there will be a symbolic “passing of the flag” ceremony at 9 a.m. Saturday at Navy Pier to show that it's now up to a new generation of veterans to carry forward the message. The specially made flag will have “Vietnam War” written on the top, an American flag in the middle, and “Global War on Terror” on the bottom.
“We are still behind these servicemen and women 150 percent. And we cannot let the (mistreatment) that happened in the 1960s and '70s happen again,” said Schiffler, who was spat on and called “a drugged-up baby killer” when he returned home from the war, even by the leader of his own church.
Welcome Home 2011 still needs financial support, Schiffler said. Donations can be made at the website.
Then and now
When Steve Aoyagi's son returns home to unincorporated Cook County near Des Plaines next month after his service in Afghanistan, he'll be greeted by flag-waving supporters, balloons, television cameras and a huge barbecue with his family and friends.
It's in stark contrast to the way Aoyagi and many other Vietnam War veterans were welcomed home in the late 1960s and early 1970s.
When Banser came home to Antioch after the war, there was no fanfare. He hugged his family members, took off his uniform and hung it in the closet, and went on with his life.
“I was proud of my uniform. But you just had to hide it,” he said.
That feeling of being unappreciated and, in some cases, discriminated against sticks with many Vietnam veterans, including Banser, which is why so many of them make it a point to attend as many soldiers' welcome home celebrations, funerals and veterans fundraising events as they can.
“The vets that come back greatly appreciated it,” said Banser, who participates in such events with members of the Vietnam Veterans Motorcycle Club. “We love 'em all. We've got their back. I'll never turn my back on them. Never.”
The support is important to soldiers, said Vietnam veteran Patrick Green of Carpentersville.
“It helps them recover. And it means an awful lot,” said Green, who was ignored by most people when he came home from Vietnam in 1968 and was turned down for a factory job because of his Vietnam service.
Many Vietnam veterans prefer not to talk about their war experience. For many years, the only time Banser talked about it was at Ralph's, an Antioch bar patronized mostly by Vietnam vets in the 1970s.
“They're like your brothers. They understand like no one else can,” he said.
In the early 1980s, Green bumped into a soldier he fought with during the war, and they spent 30 minutes going down memory lane.
“All of a sudden, we just clammed up and we couldn't speak about it anymore. And we never saw each other again,” he said. “It's hard to talk about.”
Even if they prefer to leave the past in the past, many vets say they are now proud of their service to their country. When Banser wears his “Vietnam Veterans MC” vest, covered with war patches and pins, polite strangers often come up to him and thank him.
“It's so different now than it was back then,” he said.
Banser's brother-in-law and best friend, Vietnam veteran Wally Henning of Antioch, believes it's harder for the soldiers coming home from Iraq and Afghanistan than it was for them.
“At least when we came home we could get a job. A cup of coffee wasn't $4. Some of these men and ladies are losing their homes,” said Henning, an inspector with the village of Antioch who initially resisted being interviewed because he thought other vets were more deserving of the attention. “The VA can do more. You may not have external injuries, but it affects you to be in a war. Any war.”
Memories of '86
In 1986, as thousands of veterans from all over the U.S. marched down LaSalle Street in Chicago through ticker tape and cheering crowds, Stanley Herzog of Geneva remembers taking it all in from the window of his ninth-floor office building.
Herzog, now president of Geneva's Vietnam Veterans of America chapter, said he wasn't able to participate because he had just started a new job and didn't want to risk losing it.
Green chose not to go but remembers watching soldiers get thank you hugs and handshakes on TV.
“I was thinking, ‘It's about time,'” he said.
Henning described the parade as one of the highlights of his life — filled with camaraderie and emotions — and recalls seeing the war's military leader, Gen. William Westmoreland.
“Not only did we salute him, but he saluted us,” he said. “I just remember people all over the place. There were a lot of tears, a lot of crying, a lot of hugging. A lot of stuff in our lives we sort of bury ... and a lot of this was brought out that day and there was a cleansing.”
When he returned home to Antioch in 1970 after serving in the Vietnam War, Terrill “Joker” Banser went through some tough times.
He said he became an alcoholic, had two failed marriages, struggled to control his anger and was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder.
It wasn't until 16 years later, when he marched in the Welcome Home Vietnam Veterans Parade in Chicago in June 1986 — with more than 200,000 other veterans and their families — that his life started to turn around.
“I started my own personal healing after that parade. I was proud of being a Vietnam vet, finally,” said Banser, who now lives in Lake Geneva, Wis. “It was a turning point for me ... and I think it was a turning point for the country.”
Other suburban veterans agree, saying even though the parade came more than a decade late, it helped heal their emotional wounds, shift the public's perception about Vietnam War veterans, and convey the importance of welcoming soldiers home with the honor, respect and gratitude they deserve.
This weekend, the 25-year anniversary of that historic parade will be celebrated in Chicago at Welcome Home 2011. There will be presentations, concerts, military unit reunions, art and photo exhibits, and a display of the Vietnam Moving Wall, which contains the names of the more than 58,000 American soldiers killed in the controversial war.
Most events are free and open to the public. For a full schedule, see serviceandhonor.org.
Naperville Vietnam War veteran Jack Schiffler, who helped organize both the 1986 parade and this weekend's celebration, said there will be a symbolic “passing of the flag” ceremony at 9 a.m. Saturday at Navy Pier to show that it's now up to a new generation of veterans to carry forward the message. The specially made flag will have “Vietnam War” written on the top, an American flag in the middle, and “Global War on Terror” on the bottom.
“We are still behind these servicemen and women 150 percent. And we cannot let the (mistreatment) that happened in the 1960s and '70s happen again,” said Schiffler, who was spat on and called “a drugged-up baby killer” when he returned home from the war, even by the leader of his own church.
Welcome Home 2011 still needs financial support, Schiffler said. Donations can be made at the website.
Then and now
When Steve Aoyagi's son returns home to unincorporated Cook County near Des Plaines next month after his service in Afghanistan, he'll be greeted by flag-waving supporters, balloons, television cameras and a huge barbecue with his family and friends.
It's in stark contrast to the way Aoyagi and many other Vietnam War veterans were welcomed home in the late 1960s and early 1970s.
When Banser came home to Antioch after the war, there was no fanfare. He hugged his family members, took off his uniform and hung it in the closet, and went on with his life.
“I was proud of my uniform. But you just had to hide it,” he said.
That feeling of being unappreciated and, in some cases, discriminated against sticks with many Vietnam veterans, including Banser, which is why so many of them make it a point to attend as many soldiers' welcome home celebrations, funerals and veterans fundraising events as they can.
“The vets that come back greatly appreciated it,” said Banser, who participates in such events with members of the Vietnam Veterans Motorcycle Club. “We love 'em all. We've got their back. I'll never turn my back on them. Never.”
The support is important to soldiers, said Vietnam veteran Patrick Green of Carpentersville.
“It helps them recover. And it means an awful lot,” said Green, who was ignored by most people when he came home from Vietnam in 1968 and was turned down for a factory job because of his Vietnam service.
Many Vietnam veterans prefer not to talk about their war experience. For many years, the only time Banser talked about it was at Ralph's, an Antioch bar patronized mostly by Vietnam vets in the 1970s.
“They're like your brothers. They understand like no one else can,” he said.
In the early 1980s, Green bumped into a soldier he fought with during the war, and they spent 30 minutes going down memory lane.
“All of a sudden, we just clammed up and we couldn't speak about it anymore. And we never saw each other again,” he said. “It's hard to talk about.”
Even if they prefer to leave the past in the past, many vets say they are now proud of their service to their country. When Banser wears his “Vietnam Veterans MC” vest, covered with war patches and pins, polite strangers often come up to him and thank him.
“It's so different now than it was back then,” he said.
Banser's brother-in-law and best friend, Vietnam veteran Wally Henning of Antioch, believes it's harder for the soldiers coming home from Iraq and Afghanistan than it was for them.
“At least when we came home we could get a job. A cup of coffee wasn't $4. Some of these men and ladies are losing their homes,” said Henning, an inspector with the village of Antioch who initially resisted being interviewed because he thought other vets were more deserving of the attention. “The VA can do more. You may not have external injuries, but it affects you to be in a war. Any war.”
Memories of '86
In 1986, as thousands of veterans from all over the U.S. marched down LaSalle Street in Chicago through ticker tape and cheering crowds, Stanley Herzog of Geneva remembers taking it all in from the window of his ninth-floor office building.
Herzog, now president of Geneva's Vietnam Veterans of America chapter, said he wasn't able to participate because he had just started a new job and didn't want to risk losing it.
Green chose not to go but remembers watching soldiers get thank you hugs and handshakes on TV.
“I was thinking, ‘It's about time,'” he said.
Henning described the parade as one of the highlights of his life — filled with camaraderie and emotions — and recalls seeing the war's military leader, Gen. William Westmoreland.
“Not only did we salute him, but he saluted us,” he said. “I just remember people all over the place. There were a lot of tears, a lot of crying, a lot of hugging. A lot of stuff in our lives we sort of bury ... and a lot of this was brought out that day and there was a cleansing.”
Monday, June 13, 2011
40 years after leak, the Pentagon Papers are out
DeseretNews: 40 years after leak, the Pentagon Papers are out
WASHINGTON — Call it the granddaddy of WikiLeaks. Four decades ago, a young defense analyst leaked a top-secret study packed with damaging revelations about America's conduct of the Vietnam War.
On Monday, that study, dubbed the Pentagon Papers, finally came out in complete form. It's a touchstone for whistleblowers everywhere and just the sort of leak that gives presidents fits to this day.
The documents show that almost from the opening lines, it was apparent that the authors knew they had produced a hornet's nest.
In his Jan. 15, 1969, confidential memorandum introducing the report to the defense chief, the chairman of the task force that produced the study hinted at the explosive nature of the contents. "Writing history, especially where it blends into current events, especially where that current event is Vietnam, is a treacherous exercise," Leslie H. Gelb wrote.
Asked by Defense Secretary Robert S. McNamara to do an "encyclopedic and objective" study of U.S. involvement in Vietnam from World War II to 1967, the team of three dozen analysts pored over a trove of Pentagon, CIA and State Department documents with "ant-like diligence," he wrote.
Their work revealed a pattern of deception by the Lyndon Johnson, John Kennedy and prior administrations as they secretly escalated the conflict while assuring the public that, in Johnson's words, the U.S. did not seek a wider war.
The National Archives released the Pentagon Papers in full Monday and put them online, long after most of the secrets spilled. The release was timed 40 years to the day after The New York Times published the first in its series of stories about the findings, on June 13, 1971, prompting President Richard Nixon to try to suppress publication and crush anyone in government who dared to spill confidences.
Prepared near the end of Johnson's term by Defense Department and private analysts, the report was leaked primarily by one of them, Daniel Ellsberg, in a brash act of defiance that stands as one of the most dramatic episodes of whistleblowing in U.S. history.
As scholars pore over the 47-volume report, Ellsberg said the chance of them finding great new revelations is dim. Most of it has come out in congressional forums and by other means, and Ellsberg plucked out the best when he painstakingly photocopied pages that he spirited from a safe night after night, and returned in the mornings.
He told The Associated Press the value in Monday's release was in having the entire study finally brought together and put online, giving today's generations ready access to it.
At the time, Nixon was delighted that people were reading about bumbling and lies by his predecessor, which he thought would take some anti-war heat off him. But if he loved the substance of the leak, he hated the leaker.
He called the leak an act of treachery and vowed that the people behind it "have to be put to the torch." He feared that Ellsberg represented a left-wing cabal that would undermine his own administration with damaging disclosures if the government did not make him an example for all others with loose lips.
It was his belief in such a conspiracy, and his willingness to combat it by illegal means, that put him on the path to the Watergate scandal that destroyed his presidency.
Nixon's attempt to avenge the Pentagon Papers leak failed. First the Supreme Court backed the Times, The Washington Post and others in the press and allowed them to continue publishing stories on the study in a landmark case for the First Amendment. Then the government's espionage and conspiracy prosecution of Ellsberg and his colleague Anthony J. Russo Jr. fell apart, a mistrial declared because of government misconduct.
The judge threw out the case after agents of the White House broke into the office of Ellsberg's psychiatrist to steal records in hopes of discrediting him, and after it surfaced that Ellsberg's phone had been tapped illegally. That September 1971 break-in was tied to the Plumbers, a shady White House operation formed after the Pentagon Papers disclosures to stop leaks, smear Nixon's opponents and serve his political ends.
The next year, the Plumbers were implicated in the break-in at the Democratic Party headquarters in the Watergate building.
Ellsberg remains convinced the report — a thick, often tough read — would have had much less impact if Nixon had not temporarily suppressed publication with a lower court order and had not prolonged the headlines even more by going after him so hard. "Very few are going to read the whole thing," he said in an interview, meaning both then and now. "That's why it was good to have the great drama of the injunction."
The declassified report includes 2,384 pages missing from what was regarded as the most complete version of the Pentagon Papers, published in 1971 by Democratic Sen. Mike Gravel of Alaska. But some of the material absent from that version appeared — with redactions — in a report of the House Armed Services Committee, also in 1971. In addition, at the time, Ellsberg did not disclose a section on peace negotiations with Hanoi, in fear of complicating the talks, but that part was declassified separately years later.
The 40th anniversary provided a motivation for government archivists to declassify the records. "If you read anything on the Pentagon Papers, the last line is always, 'To date, the papers have yet to be declassified by the Department of Defense,'" said A.J. Daverede, director of the production division at the National Declassification Center. "It's about time that we put that to rest."
The center, part of the National Archives, was established by a 2009 executive order from President Barack Obama, with a mission to speed the declassification of government records.
If not with the same personal vendetta, presidents since Nixon have acted aggressively to tamp down leaks. Obama's administration has pursued cases against five government leakers under espionage statutes, more than any of his recent predecessors.
Most prominent among the cases is that of Pfc. Bradley E. Manning, an intelligence analyst accused of passing hundreds of thousands of military and State Department documents to WikiLeaks. The administration says it provides avenues for whistleblowers to report wrongdoing, even in classified matters, but it cannot tolerate unilateral decisions to release information that jeopardizes national security.
Ellsberg served with the Marines in Vietnam and came back disillusioned. A protÉgÉ of Nixon adviser Henry Kissinger, who called the young man his most brilliant student, Ellsberg served the administration as an analyst, tied to the Rand Corporation. The report was by a team of analysts, some in favor of the war, some against it, some ambivalent, but joined in a no-holds-barred appraisal of U.S. policy and the fraught history of the region.
To this day, Ellsberg regrets staying mum for as long as he did.
"I was part, on a middle level, of what is best described as a conspiracy by the government to get us into war," he said. Johnson publicly vowed that he sought no wider war, Ellsberg recalled, a message that played out in the 1964 presidential campaign as LBJ portrayed himself as the peacemaker against the hawkish Republican Barry Goldwater.
Meantime, his administration manipulated South Vietnam into asking for U.S. combat troops and responded to phantom provocations from North Vietnam with stepped-up force.
"It couldn't have been a more dramatic fraud," Ellsberg said. "Everything the president said was false during the campaign."
His message to whistleblowers now: Speak up sooner. "Don't do what I did. Don't wait until the bombs start falling."
WASHINGTON — Call it the granddaddy of WikiLeaks. Four decades ago, a young defense analyst leaked a top-secret study packed with damaging revelations about America's conduct of the Vietnam War.
On Monday, that study, dubbed the Pentagon Papers, finally came out in complete form. It's a touchstone for whistleblowers everywhere and just the sort of leak that gives presidents fits to this day.
The documents show that almost from the opening lines, it was apparent that the authors knew they had produced a hornet's nest.
In his Jan. 15, 1969, confidential memorandum introducing the report to the defense chief, the chairman of the task force that produced the study hinted at the explosive nature of the contents. "Writing history, especially where it blends into current events, especially where that current event is Vietnam, is a treacherous exercise," Leslie H. Gelb wrote.
Asked by Defense Secretary Robert S. McNamara to do an "encyclopedic and objective" study of U.S. involvement in Vietnam from World War II to 1967, the team of three dozen analysts pored over a trove of Pentagon, CIA and State Department documents with "ant-like diligence," he wrote.
Their work revealed a pattern of deception by the Lyndon Johnson, John Kennedy and prior administrations as they secretly escalated the conflict while assuring the public that, in Johnson's words, the U.S. did not seek a wider war.
The National Archives released the Pentagon Papers in full Monday and put them online, long after most of the secrets spilled. The release was timed 40 years to the day after The New York Times published the first in its series of stories about the findings, on June 13, 1971, prompting President Richard Nixon to try to suppress publication and crush anyone in government who dared to spill confidences.
Prepared near the end of Johnson's term by Defense Department and private analysts, the report was leaked primarily by one of them, Daniel Ellsberg, in a brash act of defiance that stands as one of the most dramatic episodes of whistleblowing in U.S. history.
As scholars pore over the 47-volume report, Ellsberg said the chance of them finding great new revelations is dim. Most of it has come out in congressional forums and by other means, and Ellsberg plucked out the best when he painstakingly photocopied pages that he spirited from a safe night after night, and returned in the mornings.
He told The Associated Press the value in Monday's release was in having the entire study finally brought together and put online, giving today's generations ready access to it.
At the time, Nixon was delighted that people were reading about bumbling and lies by his predecessor, which he thought would take some anti-war heat off him. But if he loved the substance of the leak, he hated the leaker.
He called the leak an act of treachery and vowed that the people behind it "have to be put to the torch." He feared that Ellsberg represented a left-wing cabal that would undermine his own administration with damaging disclosures if the government did not make him an example for all others with loose lips.
It was his belief in such a conspiracy, and his willingness to combat it by illegal means, that put him on the path to the Watergate scandal that destroyed his presidency.
Nixon's attempt to avenge the Pentagon Papers leak failed. First the Supreme Court backed the Times, The Washington Post and others in the press and allowed them to continue publishing stories on the study in a landmark case for the First Amendment. Then the government's espionage and conspiracy prosecution of Ellsberg and his colleague Anthony J. Russo Jr. fell apart, a mistrial declared because of government misconduct.
The judge threw out the case after agents of the White House broke into the office of Ellsberg's psychiatrist to steal records in hopes of discrediting him, and after it surfaced that Ellsberg's phone had been tapped illegally. That September 1971 break-in was tied to the Plumbers, a shady White House operation formed after the Pentagon Papers disclosures to stop leaks, smear Nixon's opponents and serve his political ends.
The next year, the Plumbers were implicated in the break-in at the Democratic Party headquarters in the Watergate building.
Ellsberg remains convinced the report — a thick, often tough read — would have had much less impact if Nixon had not temporarily suppressed publication with a lower court order and had not prolonged the headlines even more by going after him so hard. "Very few are going to read the whole thing," he said in an interview, meaning both then and now. "That's why it was good to have the great drama of the injunction."
The declassified report includes 2,384 pages missing from what was regarded as the most complete version of the Pentagon Papers, published in 1971 by Democratic Sen. Mike Gravel of Alaska. But some of the material absent from that version appeared — with redactions — in a report of the House Armed Services Committee, also in 1971. In addition, at the time, Ellsberg did not disclose a section on peace negotiations with Hanoi, in fear of complicating the talks, but that part was declassified separately years later.
The 40th anniversary provided a motivation for government archivists to declassify the records. "If you read anything on the Pentagon Papers, the last line is always, 'To date, the papers have yet to be declassified by the Department of Defense,'" said A.J. Daverede, director of the production division at the National Declassification Center. "It's about time that we put that to rest."
The center, part of the National Archives, was established by a 2009 executive order from President Barack Obama, with a mission to speed the declassification of government records.
If not with the same personal vendetta, presidents since Nixon have acted aggressively to tamp down leaks. Obama's administration has pursued cases against five government leakers under espionage statutes, more than any of his recent predecessors.
Most prominent among the cases is that of Pfc. Bradley E. Manning, an intelligence analyst accused of passing hundreds of thousands of military and State Department documents to WikiLeaks. The administration says it provides avenues for whistleblowers to report wrongdoing, even in classified matters, but it cannot tolerate unilateral decisions to release information that jeopardizes national security.
Ellsberg served with the Marines in Vietnam and came back disillusioned. A protÉgÉ of Nixon adviser Henry Kissinger, who called the young man his most brilliant student, Ellsberg served the administration as an analyst, tied to the Rand Corporation. The report was by a team of analysts, some in favor of the war, some against it, some ambivalent, but joined in a no-holds-barred appraisal of U.S. policy and the fraught history of the region.
To this day, Ellsberg regrets staying mum for as long as he did.
"I was part, on a middle level, of what is best described as a conspiracy by the government to get us into war," he said. Johnson publicly vowed that he sought no wider war, Ellsberg recalled, a message that played out in the 1964 presidential campaign as LBJ portrayed himself as the peacemaker against the hawkish Republican Barry Goldwater.
Meantime, his administration manipulated South Vietnam into asking for U.S. combat troops and responded to phantom provocations from North Vietnam with stepped-up force.
"It couldn't have been a more dramatic fraud," Ellsberg said. "Everything the president said was false during the campaign."
His message to whistleblowers now: Speak up sooner. "Don't do what I did. Don't wait until the bombs start falling."
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Finding peace: Veterans visit monastery to heal traumas of war
RockdaleCitizen: Finding peace: Veterans visit monastery to heal traumas of war
CONYERS — On a recent Tuesday morning, a group of military veterans, along with a few of their wives, gathered at the Monastery of Holy Spirit to hear what Father Anthony Delisi had to say about anger and forgiveness as it relates to war.
“What if we can’t forgive ourselves?” asked a Vietnam veteran.
“How do we handle memories that give guilt and shame?” inquired another.
“What about the anger that was directed to our spouses and children?” remarked another.
As the discussion unfolded, silent tears were shed and answers from the monk and fellow veterans were offered up.
The group is part of a four-day Spiritual Healing for Veterans Retreat, the first of its kind in Georgia. The retreat is designed to assist those veterans coping with post traumatic stress disorder, or PTSD, and other mental health issues related to their service in the military.
The retreat, aimed at veterans from all faiths, entailed sessions such as Forgiveness and Healing, Contemplative Prayer, Strength through Suffering, The Journey Home and Grace in the Moment. A Grief Ceremony and a Healing Ceremony were also incorporated.
The goal of the retreat was to offer veterans a path to peace by helping them develop a relationship with God, said retreat co-organizer and Vietnam veteran Andy Farris.
“A lot of people are now starting to see that PTSD is really a moral wound or soul wound and one of the things we’re looking for is forgiveness, for what we either did or didn’t do in the war,” he said.
Farris said that according to Veterans Administration statistics, 1.2 million veterans sought treatment for PTSD in 2010. Of those, 60 percent were Vietnam veterans.
One reason why Vietnam vets are now seeking treatment for mental stress experienced four decades ago, he explained, is because recent conflicts in Iraq and Afghanistan are opening old wounds.
“All this stuff you just stuffed away for 40 years just pops loose,” Farris said.
The retreat was designed to serve veterans of all ages, said Farris, and a quick survey of the retreat session on Tuesday showed faces old and young.
Farris included another statistic in his literature about the retreat: According to the Rand Corporation, in 2008 nearly 20 percent, or roughly 300,000, soldiers who returned from Iraq and Afghanistan reported symptoms of PTSD or major depression, yet only half sought treatment.
Farris said veterans ranging in age from 23 to 88, who fought in wars including WWII, Korea, Vietnam, Iraq and Afghanistan, attended the retreat.
“We covered three generations,” said Farris.
An outgrowth of www.healingveterans.org, a nonprofit operated by Farris, the retreat is being videotaped to create mini-retreats for presentation at churches and veterans organizations. Specifically, the condensed retreats could be aimed at citizen-soldiers who have served in the National Guard, said Farris, and representatives from the Georgia National Guard visited the monastery to review the effort.
“What I can do is carry the message of the monks with me,” Farris said.
From 2000 to 2010, 10,000 Georgia National Guard soldiers have been deployed overseas for the Iraq and Afghanistan wars.
Farris said that while those enlisted in the U.S. Armed Forces arrive back to the states onto a military base and undergo a debriefing, National Guard citizen-soldiers are sent directly into the home environment after an outprocessing of about three or four days.
“There is no opportunity for them to resocialize. Readjustment can be a difficult task,” Farris said. “In less than four days, you’re back in your living room without your buddies around you. You’re going from the battlefield to your living room.”
Farris suffers from PTSD from his experiences in the Vietnam War as an infantry officer with the 25th Division from fall 1967 to fall 1968. One image, among others, imprinted in his memory is that of him holding a wounded soldier while a medic worked to save the soldier’s life and another soldier held a two-way radio to Farris’ ear so that he could call for a medivac.
Asked whether or not the soldier lived, Farris said, “I don’t know. I wish I knew.”
Farris said that for more than a decade after he returned from Vietnam he was a workaholic and an alcoholic incapable of forming any kind of intimate relationship with anyone.
That changed in 1982 when he visited the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Wall. Looking at the names of soldiers who lost their lives in Vietnam, he also saw his own reflection and thought “Why them and not me?”
Farris then went to work helping veterans obtain small business loans through the Vietnam Veterans Leadership Program.
Now 67 and retired, Farris lives in Roswell with his wife and is the father of two college-age children.
“I’m just a guy and I happen to be a veteran, but I happen to have this feeling that what I’m doing is the work that God wants me to do,” Farris said.
To learn more, visit www.healingveterans.org.
CONYERS — On a recent Tuesday morning, a group of military veterans, along with a few of their wives, gathered at the Monastery of Holy Spirit to hear what Father Anthony Delisi had to say about anger and forgiveness as it relates to war.
“What if we can’t forgive ourselves?” asked a Vietnam veteran.
“How do we handle memories that give guilt and shame?” inquired another.
“What about the anger that was directed to our spouses and children?” remarked another.
As the discussion unfolded, silent tears were shed and answers from the monk and fellow veterans were offered up.
The group is part of a four-day Spiritual Healing for Veterans Retreat, the first of its kind in Georgia. The retreat is designed to assist those veterans coping with post traumatic stress disorder, or PTSD, and other mental health issues related to their service in the military.
The retreat, aimed at veterans from all faiths, entailed sessions such as Forgiveness and Healing, Contemplative Prayer, Strength through Suffering, The Journey Home and Grace in the Moment. A Grief Ceremony and a Healing Ceremony were also incorporated.
The goal of the retreat was to offer veterans a path to peace by helping them develop a relationship with God, said retreat co-organizer and Vietnam veteran Andy Farris.
“A lot of people are now starting to see that PTSD is really a moral wound or soul wound and one of the things we’re looking for is forgiveness, for what we either did or didn’t do in the war,” he said.
Farris said that according to Veterans Administration statistics, 1.2 million veterans sought treatment for PTSD in 2010. Of those, 60 percent were Vietnam veterans.
One reason why Vietnam vets are now seeking treatment for mental stress experienced four decades ago, he explained, is because recent conflicts in Iraq and Afghanistan are opening old wounds.
“All this stuff you just stuffed away for 40 years just pops loose,” Farris said.
The retreat was designed to serve veterans of all ages, said Farris, and a quick survey of the retreat session on Tuesday showed faces old and young.
Farris included another statistic in his literature about the retreat: According to the Rand Corporation, in 2008 nearly 20 percent, or roughly 300,000, soldiers who returned from Iraq and Afghanistan reported symptoms of PTSD or major depression, yet only half sought treatment.
Farris said veterans ranging in age from 23 to 88, who fought in wars including WWII, Korea, Vietnam, Iraq and Afghanistan, attended the retreat.
“We covered three generations,” said Farris.
An outgrowth of www.healingveterans.org, a nonprofit operated by Farris, the retreat is being videotaped to create mini-retreats for presentation at churches and veterans organizations. Specifically, the condensed retreats could be aimed at citizen-soldiers who have served in the National Guard, said Farris, and representatives from the Georgia National Guard visited the monastery to review the effort.
“What I can do is carry the message of the monks with me,” Farris said.
From 2000 to 2010, 10,000 Georgia National Guard soldiers have been deployed overseas for the Iraq and Afghanistan wars.
Farris said that while those enlisted in the U.S. Armed Forces arrive back to the states onto a military base and undergo a debriefing, National Guard citizen-soldiers are sent directly into the home environment after an outprocessing of about three or four days.
“There is no opportunity for them to resocialize. Readjustment can be a difficult task,” Farris said. “In less than four days, you’re back in your living room without your buddies around you. You’re going from the battlefield to your living room.”
Farris suffers from PTSD from his experiences in the Vietnam War as an infantry officer with the 25th Division from fall 1967 to fall 1968. One image, among others, imprinted in his memory is that of him holding a wounded soldier while a medic worked to save the soldier’s life and another soldier held a two-way radio to Farris’ ear so that he could call for a medivac.
Asked whether or not the soldier lived, Farris said, “I don’t know. I wish I knew.”
Farris said that for more than a decade after he returned from Vietnam he was a workaholic and an alcoholic incapable of forming any kind of intimate relationship with anyone.
That changed in 1982 when he visited the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Wall. Looking at the names of soldiers who lost their lives in Vietnam, he also saw his own reflection and thought “Why them and not me?”
Farris then went to work helping veterans obtain small business loans through the Vietnam Veterans Leadership Program.
Now 67 and retired, Farris lives in Roswell with his wife and is the father of two college-age children.
“I’m just a guy and I happen to be a veteran, but I happen to have this feeling that what I’m doing is the work that God wants me to do,” Farris said.
To learn more, visit www.healingveterans.org.
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