LOIS HENRY: War never ends for veterans
| Tuesday, Nov 10 2009 05:10 PM
Last Updated Tuesday, Nov 10 2009 05:10 PM
Resources geared toward veterans and their families
* Kern County Veteran's Services Department: 868-7300.
* Counselors at the new vet center (yet to be opened) are seeing people now: 868-7300.
* The National Aliance on Mental Illness holds a support group for families of veterans the first and third Tuesday of every month 6 to 7:30 p.m. at the Good Samaritan Hospital, southwest, 5101 White Lane. Contact Russ Sempell, 303-1416 russmft@aol.com or Patrice Maniaci, 333-5484 ksmmom@msn.com or 868-5061. www.frontlinenami.org
* Lacy Gomez with Central California Family Assistance, coordinates services for vets and their families: 978-7782 or lacy.gomez@ng.army.mi.
* Military One Source, (800) 342-9647 or www.militaryonesource.com arranges local counseling sessions for servicemembers and family at no cost.
Help for survivors of suicide
* A Suicide Survivor Support Group meets the third Tuesday of each moth from 6 to 8 p.m. at the Consumer Family Learning Center, 5121 Stockdale Highway (West Door). Call 661-868-1552 for information.
War never ends.
I don't mean that in the literal sense (though that does seem to be the case these days).
As we thank our veterans today for their service, we need to remember that, for many, coping with the aftermath of war is a lifelong battle.
Ken Cannon has spent decades coming to grips with that after watching his brother, who he called a World War II hero, drink himself to death 30 years after his homecoming.
"I never cried so hard in my life as the day we buried him," Cannon said of his older brother, James Myron Cannon. "I've always felt guilty that we didn't save him."
The elder Cannon came home an Army Captian with a chest full of medals, but he never talked about what he'd seen and done in North Africa, Italy and France.
"All he ever said was, 'It was rough.' That was it."
James married, had children and held a steady job. But his drinking increased.
Ken, who served in the Air Force during the Korean War, said no one had ever heard of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) back then and they didn't understand that alcoholism is a key symptom.
The family watched helplessly as James sank further into despair, finally dying in a VA hospital in 1979, just 59 years old.
"It was the war that killed him," Ken told me, emotion still clogging his voice. "And all these young guys coming back now...boy! We gotta make sure we get 'em the help they need."
Cannon, like many of us, is shocked by the increasing suicide rates of recently returning troops from the Iraq and Afghanistan wars.
Stories started surfacing as early as 2004 about spikes in suicides among troops. Earlier this year, the Pentagon reported that for the first time in history, the rate of suicides among returning Army soldiers (20 deaths per 100,000 soldiers) outpaced civilian suicide rates.
I couldn't find local numbers, but Chuck Bikakas with the county's Veterans Services Department said he knew of two such cases.
"You hear rumors about much higher numbers," he said.
The problem is so frightening the Army has put up $50 million to form a five-year partnership with the National Institute of Mental Health to find out why so many soldiers are killing themselves.
These days, there's no question PTSD is real and serious. There's a lot more education and awareness about the disorder and far less stigma, at least in the civilian world.
But for a warrior, admitting you have a problem can feel like admitting defeat.
Retired Gunnery Sgt. Wally Beville, 37, spent 17 years in the Marine Corps until he was medically retired for a heart condition in 2007. He was in the first Gulf War and was sent to Iraq in 2004 where he was a helicopter mechanic.
His job was to go in after a downed chopper and try to fix it or recover the bodies and blow up the aircraft. His team was often under fire as they worked.
"More often than not, it was someone I knew that was killed."
Still, he never thought he had a problem. Instead, he drank.
Then this past January, he was drinking in his garage and had a flashback. Next thing he knew he was fighting with his oldest son and his two friends. He was arrested.
His wife found Frontline, a group affiliated with the National Association on Mental Illness here in town. Beville said it saved his life.
"I brought my pistol with me everywhere I went," he said. " I honestly felt naked without it. I don't need to do that anymore."
He said when people are put into wartime situations, certain chemicals are elevated in the brain to cope with the danger. That doesn't change back on its own.
"When I understood that my reaction was normal, that it wasn't my fault, it was an 'Aha!' moment for me. It put everything in perspective."
Getting there was tough, though, especially considering the stigma of mental illness is still far worse in the military, he said.
"I wish everyone could get to the path I'm on without having to walk through all the crap and all the pain I went through," Beville said. "It's a strength to recognize you have a problem and ask for help.
"It's not a weakness."
Opinions expressed in this column are those of Lois Henry, not The Bakersfield Californian. Her column appears Wednesdays and Sundays. Comment at people.bakersfield.com/home/Blog/noholdsbarred, call her at 395-7373 or e-mail lhenry@bakersfield.com
