Enemy in the valley, Midnight attack they mount,
Enemy in the valley, Too many to count.
Enemy in the valley, As far as one can see
VC in the valley, They want to kill me.
Foxtrot 6 to H.Q. –Come In
Fire mission! Fire mission, over,
Broken Arrow--Broken Arrow,
Fire mission! Fire mission , over,
“Scorched Earth” 10 minutes non-stop
Zappers in our lines, Position is overrun,
Can’t hold, can’t hold, “It” must be done,
Fire mission! Fire mission, over.
H.Q. to Foxtrot 6, confirm your last…
“Broken Arrow – Broken Arrow”.
Pour it ALL, all on top of us,
Napalm, High Explosives & Phosphorus.
Roger that! Foxtrot 6, tango’s in your house,
Dig in tails down, HELL is on the way.
Firing for effect, so hold your breath
Time to go dancing, Dancing with Death!
Trees and People explode like Popcorn
Screaming flaming darting Silhouettes,
Stomach churning, from Napalm Burning
Wood and charred bar-b-que’d Flesh.
Smoldering humanity, such Insanity
Pungent chemicals: super heated Acid,
Mixtures of 10 w 40 & High Octane set aflame
Rolling Soapy Thunder, igniting perpetual pain.
Infernal Inhaled, we struggle for Breath,
It's a Combat Ritual of Dancing With DEATH.
(AS ALWAYS,YOUR COMMENTS ARE WELCOME)
Thursday, October 4, 2007
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
PTSD -103 part 2
Almost 3 million Americans came to South Vietnam during it's decades of war. Some were active combatants, others were rear echelon or support forces. (more on that later.) Not everyone fired their weapons or engaged the enemy. However the enemy made his / her presence known whenever they felt like it.
There were things that some of us saw that would sicken even the most moral upright citizen, not to mention that we participated in or witnessed things, or at least had knowledge of-that which would be a violation of criminal laws of any civilized community. After all we were at WAR. We were young, we were trained to be skilled professional assassins, killers, and mentally motivated to; Adapt, improvise, and overcome. We were trained to do whatever it took to get the job done.
Unfortunately, when we came home, we came "Home" to an anti-war minded, unsympathetic, unsupportive public who openly expressed their contempt for us, as if We had started the WAR. The people, here stateside, whose freedoms we believed we were defending, expected these killers of men, women, and children to "act normal" once we returned. After all,"you are not in the jungle or rice paddies now, boy." Define NORMAL.
Those painful memories, flashbacks, nightmares of the carnage-human life lost and the brutality against humanity, far exceeded the normal threshold of Sanity. "Oh, He's just having a little trouble adjusting to being back here in the real world.'' Sarcastically we were told, it's just a little "Shell Shock, it will go away in time."
***News Flash!!! Every Sound, Action, Thought, Visual Stimuli, Feeling, and Smell is permanently recorded-stored in our mind... Killing is not Normal. Watching your friends die, is not Normal. Smelling decayed, rotting human flesh is not Normal. Inhaling charcoal black skin and bones from bodies burnt beyond recognition certainly anit Normal either.
It has a name; Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. ---Google it for some interesting reading.
There were things that some of us saw that would sicken even the most moral upright citizen, not to mention that we participated in or witnessed things, or at least had knowledge of-that which would be a violation of criminal laws of any civilized community. After all we were at WAR. We were young, we were trained to be skilled professional assassins, killers, and mentally motivated to; Adapt, improvise, and overcome. We were trained to do whatever it took to get the job done.
Unfortunately, when we came home, we came "Home" to an anti-war minded, unsympathetic, unsupportive public who openly expressed their contempt for us, as if We had started the WAR. The people, here stateside, whose freedoms we believed we were defending, expected these killers of men, women, and children to "act normal" once we returned. After all,"you are not in the jungle or rice paddies now, boy." Define NORMAL.
Those painful memories, flashbacks, nightmares of the carnage-human life lost and the brutality against humanity, far exceeded the normal threshold of Sanity. "Oh, He's just having a little trouble adjusting to being back here in the real world.'' Sarcastically we were told, it's just a little "Shell Shock, it will go away in time."
***News Flash!!! Every Sound, Action, Thought, Visual Stimuli, Feeling, and Smell is permanently recorded-stored in our mind... Killing is not Normal. Watching your friends die, is not Normal. Smelling decayed, rotting human flesh is not Normal. Inhaling charcoal black skin and bones from bodies burnt beyond recognition certainly anit Normal either.
It has a name; Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. ---Google it for some interesting reading.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
PTSD-103 part 1
I am a Recovering Alcoholic ( A Functional Alcoholic).
I am a 61 year young diabetic, hypertensive, disabled Vietnam Veteran with PTSD-
Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.
For ME, it's a 3D Instant Video Playback in my mind, with Cranial Surround Sound...I have been reliving and revisiting my tour of duty in South East Asia daily since 1967.
Through my writings, I hope to bring a measure of ‘healing’, or some degree of peace of mind to Any and ALL Veterans who suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, also known as PTSD. World wide there are thousands upon thousands of former combatants still struggling with personal demons.
They are struggling with vivid nightmares, recurring flashbacks with intrusive thoughts, which ultimately produce lengthy periods of depression and suicidal feelings. Forty plus years later, I’m still struggling with spontaneous mood swings, and confrontational outburst of anger.
We struggle because we are still fighting the mental battles; we’re still trying to wrap our mind around what occurred during our tour of duty in the combat zone. It’s hard sometimes, trying to deal with the memories of those events that have darkened our past. Either we give in (give up) and succumb to those suicidal thoughts, or we find another device / vice as an avenue of escape. Most Veterans, myself included, turned to drugs and or alcohol in an attempt to quiet or drown out the memories and feelings of what we saw, what we actively participated in, or had knowledge of. That is why "I Can Still Hear Their Cries, Even In My Sleep."
....it's late & I'm going to try to get some shut-eye......
Spacial Thanks to Peter Anthony Holder, CJAD 800AM Montreal
http://peteranthonyholder.blogspot.com
I am a 61 year young diabetic, hypertensive, disabled Vietnam Veteran with PTSD-
Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.
For ME, it's a 3D Instant Video Playback in my mind, with Cranial Surround Sound...I have been reliving and revisiting my tour of duty in South East Asia daily since 1967.
Through my writings, I hope to bring a measure of ‘healing’, or some degree of peace of mind to Any and ALL Veterans who suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, also known as PTSD. World wide there are thousands upon thousands of former combatants still struggling with personal demons.
They are struggling with vivid nightmares, recurring flashbacks with intrusive thoughts, which ultimately produce lengthy periods of depression and suicidal feelings. Forty plus years later, I’m still struggling with spontaneous mood swings, and confrontational outburst of anger.
We struggle because we are still fighting the mental battles; we’re still trying to wrap our mind around what occurred during our tour of duty in the combat zone. It’s hard sometimes, trying to deal with the memories of those events that have darkened our past. Either we give in (give up) and succumb to those suicidal thoughts, or we find another device / vice as an avenue of escape. Most Veterans, myself included, turned to drugs and or alcohol in an attempt to quiet or drown out the memories and feelings of what we saw, what we actively participated in, or had knowledge of. That is why "I Can Still Hear Their Cries, Even In My Sleep."
....it's late & I'm going to try to get some shut-eye......
Spacial Thanks to Peter Anthony Holder, CJAD 800AM Montreal
http://peteranthonyholder.blogspot.com
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Shyhawks of the VIETNAM WAR
These multi-purpose bombers were among the very powerful fixed wing workhorses of the Vietnam War. As far as the United States Marine Corps personnel on the ground was concerned, they were our low level, close order ''fire dragon's''.
All airships; helicopters or fixed wing, was our version of "Death From Above." They would swoop down out the sky, and come in guns a-blazing, firing rockets, and or dropping high explosives, or a long "Wall of Fire"> napalm (a jellied soap and gasoline mixture). Sometimes they would also drop white phosphorus bombs (an acid-like chemical substance) that burns white hot at extreme temperatures, "eating" through flesh, wood and even some metals . Those charging enemy forces would be no longer be an over-whelming threat to us.
We would jump up and down waving our arms, shouting approval and marvel at the accuracy of those courageous pilots as well as the precision of their drops on a enemy who sought to 'wipe us out'/ over-run our position and kill all of us grunts. However the end result, the residue, would be blown up body parts, extreme crispy critters, and or a life-time scarred and permanently disfigured shell that once resembled a human being who had anti-American belief's.
The world does not always see why the combat veteran suffers from PTSD-, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, aka, "Shell Shock", "Combat Fatigue."
I Can Still Hear Their Cries, Even In My Sleep...a journey into PTSD
By "Doc" E. Everett McFall, USMC, Class of Vietnam 1966-1967
Rated 5 (*****) Five Stars by AMAZON.Com readers and book reviewers.
All airships; helicopters or fixed wing, was our version of "Death From Above." They would swoop down out the sky, and come in guns a-blazing, firing rockets, and or dropping high explosives, or a long "Wall of Fire"> napalm (a jellied soap and gasoline mixture). Sometimes they would also drop white phosphorus bombs (an acid-like chemical substance) that burns white hot at extreme temperatures, "eating" through flesh, wood and even some metals . Those charging enemy forces would be no longer be an over-whelming threat to us.
We would jump up and down waving our arms, shouting approval and marvel at the accuracy of those courageous pilots as well as the precision of their drops on a enemy who sought to 'wipe us out'/ over-run our position and kill all of us grunts. However the end result, the residue, would be blown up body parts, extreme crispy critters, and or a life-time scarred and permanently disfigured shell that once resembled a human being who had anti-American belief's.
The world does not always see why the combat veteran suffers from PTSD-, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, aka, "Shell Shock", "Combat Fatigue."
I Can Still Hear Their Cries, Even In My Sleep...a journey into PTSD
By "Doc" E. Everett McFall, USMC, Class of Vietnam 1966-1967
Rated 5 (*****) Five Stars by AMAZON.Com readers and book reviewers.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
PTSD 103
Holiday Thoughts on Living with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.
''Oh Say Can You See... The Rockets Red Glare?"
Holidays and social gatherings in parks and fields are not so festive and joyous for me anymore, at least not the ones which promote explosive / loud nose-making celebrations, such as; New Years Eve, The Fourth of July, Memorial Day, and any that offer an excuse to shoot off our fun toys. I would venture to guess that most combat Veterans feel pretty much the same, we have problems and phobias about large crowds, sudden loud noises, wooded areas and wide open clearings. Why, you ask? Well, those fields/areas were the ideal places for the enemy to spring a trap / an ambush...
To most folks, it would appear normal to celebrate with party favors, noise makers, sky rockets and the innocent shooting of fire arms into the air. However, to the Veteran, it is somewhat nerve racking, unsettling, and often just pure mental hell. Why? Because those cherry bombs, M-80's, M-150's, and explosives of all sizes rekindle real painful memories form the past.
No, I'm not being absurd, those whistling rockets, 1/8th to 1/4th sticks of dynamite are reminders of combat conditions. (READ: I Can Still Hear Their Cries, Even In My Sleep).
PTSD is total or partial recall, vivid Flashbacks on a panoramic temporal Hi-Def screen complete with cranial surround sound. For me it's of "Mortars" whistling as they approach and rain down upon us. They sing a high pitched song of death and destruction until impact or above ground detonation. Hearing those celebratory tools prevent vets from enjoying those occasions, a we are forced to relive combat conditions. Hence: PTSD...
Each whistling rocket, no matter it's size, each loud bang or boom stimulates a take cover urge, then a flight or flight emotion within me that will only subside about an hour after the last shot or explosion. Basically I 'll try to be at home or with trusted associates where I can feel a little more safer. Otherwise, I'm tense, uneasy and reactive to what I perceive as "Life Threatening." That is Holiday-PTSD.
''Oh Say Can You See... The Rockets Red Glare?"
Holidays and social gatherings in parks and fields are not so festive and joyous for me anymore, at least not the ones which promote explosive / loud nose-making celebrations, such as; New Years Eve, The Fourth of July, Memorial Day, and any that offer an excuse to shoot off our fun toys. I would venture to guess that most combat Veterans feel pretty much the same, we have problems and phobias about large crowds, sudden loud noises, wooded areas and wide open clearings. Why, you ask? Well, those fields/areas were the ideal places for the enemy to spring a trap / an ambush...
To most folks, it would appear normal to celebrate with party favors, noise makers, sky rockets and the innocent shooting of fire arms into the air. However, to the Veteran, it is somewhat nerve racking, unsettling, and often just pure mental hell. Why? Because those cherry bombs, M-80's, M-150's, and explosives of all sizes rekindle real painful memories form the past.
No, I'm not being absurd, those whistling rockets, 1/8th to 1/4th sticks of dynamite are reminders of combat conditions. (READ: I Can Still Hear Their Cries, Even In My Sleep).
PTSD is total or partial recall, vivid Flashbacks on a panoramic temporal Hi-Def screen complete with cranial surround sound. For me it's of "Mortars" whistling as they approach and rain down upon us. They sing a high pitched song of death and destruction until impact or above ground detonation. Hearing those celebratory tools prevent vets from enjoying those occasions, a we are forced to relive combat conditions. Hence: PTSD...
Each whistling rocket, no matter it's size, each loud bang or boom stimulates a take cover urge, then a flight or flight emotion within me that will only subside about an hour after the last shot or explosion. Basically I 'll try to be at home or with trusted associates where I can feel a little more safer. Otherwise, I'm tense, uneasy and reactive to what I perceive as "Life Threatening." That is Holiday-PTSD.
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
Happy 4th of July 2007
HAPPY JULY 4th!!!
I Can Still Hear Thier Cries, Even In My Sleep...
A Journey Into PTSD!
My Special Thanks To:
Terry Austin Hunt, Sgt USMC
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
I TALK To The DEAD
Thousands upon Thousands of Veterans have conversations with the DEAD. Some of us talk to the same corpses on a daily basis, others talk to a variety of different ones, ie; Family, Loved ones, Fellow Combat Buddies, even the Enemy. We interact with them in our waking moments of consciousness and mostly when we are sleep.
These conversations are real to us. To others, we are just "psycho-babbling." We are often shunned, ostracized, forced into isolation from the people whom we should seek shelter and solace. They don't know how to deal with our PTSD, so we turn to Drugs and Alcohol to escape the pain of Total Recall, The Nightmares, The Flashbacks with Intrusive Thoughts. We Self Medicate ourselves. Ultimately society becomes ashamed of this blight that has stained it's pure unblemished moral fabric. Yet we are the physical extensions of your political cerebral manifestations.
YES, we Talk to the Souls, the Faces of Fear and Death! Many of us can't get a full nights peace, as for myself... I Can Still Hear Their Cries, Even In My Sleep!!!
These conversations are real to us. To others, we are just "psycho-babbling." We are often shunned, ostracized, forced into isolation from the people whom we should seek shelter and solace. They don't know how to deal with our PTSD, so we turn to Drugs and Alcohol to escape the pain of Total Recall, The Nightmares, The Flashbacks with Intrusive Thoughts. We Self Medicate ourselves. Ultimately society becomes ashamed of this blight that has stained it's pure unblemished moral fabric. Yet we are the physical extensions of your political cerebral manifestations.
YES, we Talk to the Souls, the Faces of Fear and Death! Many of us can't get a full nights peace, as for myself... I Can Still Hear Their Cries, Even In My Sleep!!!
-------------------------------------------------
“E. Everett McFall's collection ‘I Can Still Hear Their Cries’, is a cathartic work that takes a reader into the torment and pain of a Vietnam War veteran who, through poetry and prose, provides a reader with a shocking sensory insight into life as a Marine Corpsman(Medic) and a surviving veteran. His poetry is vivid, visual, honest, compelling and painful.
McFall, I commend you for your candid openness, your vulnerability and capacity to reach others who are too often overlooked. We believe that this work could provide support for veterans of the Gulf War as well as those returning from Iraq and their families.”
Regina V. Jones, Professor, Indiana University Northwest, Dept. of Minority Studies
I Live With The DEAD
I Can Still Hear Their Cries, Even In My Sleep...a journey into PTSD
After the first page you might just be compelled to finish it just as those who started reading this "Natural Emotional Page Turner." Here's what others are saying about this timeless war memoir from a combat medic.
------------------------------------------------------
By "Doc" E. Everett McFall, USMC, Class of Vietnam 1966-1967
After the first page you might just be compelled to finish it just as those who started reading this "Natural Emotional Page Turner." Here's what others are saying about this timeless war memoir from a combat medic.
------------------------------------------------------
“I Can Still Hear Their Cries, Even in My Sleep by E. Everett McFall is an outstanding portrayal of the deep inner feelings about war and its mental and physical consequences, which resulted in his Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD).
Mr. McFall expresses his feelings with vivid verbal pictures enabling everyone to see though his eyes. This is a book which should be read by all.”
Samuel W. Hurley, USAF, WWII Veteran
Sunday, July 1, 2007
Offical Release Date: 28 June 2007
Your Book Has Been Published Successfully!
I Can Still Hear Their Cries, Even In My Sleep: A Journey Into PTSD by
E. Everett McFall (Paperback - May 19, 2007)
Buy it now: $11.95
on Amazon.com & Barnes&Noble.com
"This poetic memior of war is RAW and RUTHLESSLY HONEST. The vivid images are a moving testiment to the enduring pain of war and the stresses of combat. The verses are captivating, informative, and emotionally stimulating. The author takes you on a journey into the shadows of PTSD. I give it A 5 STAR RATING."
James B. Lane Professor of History, PHD, University of Indiana Northwest.
Jessica said...
"Mr. McFall reveals his past experiences of the Vietnam war in such vivid and graphic detail, which produces horrible images that leaves you in tears. Tears for Mr. McFall and his fellow brothers and sisters who have fought in various wars only to return home different people. People we all love but still don't understand them or their P.S.T.D."
----------------------------------------------------------
"I Can Still Hear Their Cries, Even In My Sleep" .
by E. Everett McFall is Now Available Exclusively on AMAZON.COM
I Can Still Hear Their Cries, Even In My Sleep: A Journey Into PTSD by
E. Everett McFall (Paperback - May 19, 2007)
Buy it now: $11.95
on Amazon.com & Barnes&Noble.com
"This poetic memior of war is RAW and RUTHLESSLY HONEST. The vivid images are a moving testiment to the enduring pain of war and the stresses of combat. The verses are captivating, informative, and emotionally stimulating. The author takes you on a journey into the shadows of PTSD. I give it A 5 STAR RATING."
James B. Lane Professor of History, PHD, University of Indiana Northwest.
Jessica said...
"Mr. McFall reveals his past experiences of the Vietnam war in such vivid and graphic detail, which produces horrible images that leaves you in tears. Tears for Mr. McFall and his fellow brothers and sisters who have fought in various wars only to return home different people. People we all love but still don't understand them or their P.S.T.D."
----------------------------------------------------------
"I Can Still Hear Their Cries, Even In My Sleep" .
by E. Everett McFall is Now Available Exclusively on AMAZON.COM
Friday, June 29, 2007
PTSD-Combat Stress 101
Today I am alive, Yesterday I died, Tomorrow is uncertain, unknown, and unchartered passages of life. No longer do I fear dying, rather it's living that's so painful. Living with the demons of death that plaque my every waking moment. Living is harder than dying- because of the memories, the reflections, the flashbacks with intrusive thoughts. "I Can Still Hear Their Cries, Even In My Sleep". "Incoming"- mortars, rockets and searing red hot bullets. "Incoming" those high pitched streams of doom, whistling whining and knifing through the air with an ere Gothic theme accompanying each courier of death.
As I tried to decipher their message, I am frozen in place, a blend of paralysis of analysis and raw fear. Ear drum shattering, elevated decibels explosions far and near. Pardon me whilst I cope with the stress of times gone by. It's been forty years since I treaded that red muddy terrain of South East Asia (South Vietnam).
As I tried to decipher their message, I am frozen in place, a blend of paralysis of analysis and raw fear. Ear drum shattering, elevated decibels explosions far and near. Pardon me whilst I cope with the stress of times gone by. It's been forty years since I treaded that red muddy terrain of South East Asia (South Vietnam).
My blackened reddish tan has faded, replaced by toughen skin with age spots. The thinning grayish black hair encircles the ever widening sea of baldness. Those eagle eyes of yesteryear require bifocaled glasses now. The youthful vim and vigor has evaporated with time, leaving and an angry emotionally charged human shell. The quicken movements are drained from this finely tune, honed sharp killing machine known as a United States Marine.
No more drugs, no more alcohol, just headaches, tears, anger, sleepless nights, and the pain of having walked with death. I suffer from P.T.S.D. ( Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) formerly known as Combat Fatigue/Shell Shock. I am not part of an Elite Team of Combat Veterans, just one of millions who have P.T.S.D.
These are the basic criteria of P.T.S.D. that afflicts us all.
No more drugs, no more alcohol, just headaches, tears, anger, sleepless nights, and the pain of having walked with death. I suffer from P.T.S.D. ( Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) formerly known as Combat Fatigue/Shell Shock. I am not part of an Elite Team of Combat Veterans, just one of millions who have P.T.S.D.
These are the basic criteria of P.T.S.D. that afflicts us all.
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