The Local VA Hospital

©C.R. Hovey, 1974, all rights reserved

I finally went to the local VA Hospital for help. My mind was near the breaking point, sleep was a luxury and most thought my behavior was strange to say the least. I slept on the hard floor and roamed the farm pasture at night spooking our dairy herd-at last they gave more milk! The county sheriff, a family friend, had brought me down from the local city water tower twice in the past 30 days and suggested a check-in with the local VA Hospital would be better than the country clink. I agreed.

"It had to be the war, it had to be the war, it hard to be the war;" I kept repeating this all the way to the VA Hospital. They'll help, God, I know they will. I'm the only one left alive out of my team; 6 dead brothers-2 by suicide in the world and 4 in the Nam. They'll help."

The foyer was well lit and endless amount of staffed desk filled a massive screening room. "Pick a number and be seated" signs were all over the place. Finally, some dismal sounding circus barker massacred my name, but finally I was on my way to someone who could give me some peaceful nights.

This someone was a retired WWII USMC gunnery sergeant who listened patiently while I explained insomnia, dreams, rage outbursts, strange behavior, alientation, detachment, depression and probably all the warning signs of something. His first question was: "Can you prove you were in Nam?" I was astonished and asked exactly what his job was? Found he was a screener, not the messiah who could find some sleep for me. Handed him my discharge certificate, he read, grunted, bitched I had more medals than he did and handed 3000 forms back for me to fill out.

I whipped through the forms rapidly since caffeine always sped me through everything. Then I had to grab another number to see Gunny again which was longer than before. Finally, he was there and the forms were handed over. He quickly reviewed them and said they would be processed and the VA would be in contact within a month. "A month," I said, "a fucking month!" Told him I could be dead within a month at the current rate of events. "I NEED HELP NOW! I DON'T WANT TO DIE HERE AFTER SURVIVING OVER THERE, PLEASE!

He smiled, leaned over and blurted: "you goddamn Vietnam Vets...lose the fucking war and then expect to grab at everything for benefits. NOW GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE BEFORE I CALL SECURITY! LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE SO I CAN HELP REALLY HONORABLE VETS WHO WON THEIR WAR! OKAY!!

If this guy had been a Charley a few months ago, I would have wasted his ass and felt nothing, but this is home, I think. "Okay, sorry about the outburst, I'll wait" was said to him as he smirked at the idea of another victory.

I never heard from the VA Hospital again. Undoubtedly, my paperwork was stashed in the circular container the moment I walked away. The point was clear-everything continued as it did in Nam except this time the real enemy had been defined. Instead of bullets, RPGs, B-40, etc., it was bureaucrats, rules, regs, screeners, bias, prejudice and circular container filing.

I left for Idaho the next day to live in the mountains where my home was for 18 months.