Dennis A. Wood Veteran of the Month, December 2002

I was born in a small town in North Carolina in 1947. I had four siblings, three sisters and one brother. My mother and father divorced when I four years old. I met my father a few times on holidays, but I never knew him well. My eldest sister married when I was five years old so I don't really remember her being at home. My brother died in 1954 of a severe kidney ailment after a long illness. His death was the first traumatic experience I remember. I was 7 years old and I took it hard.

This left me and one older and one younger sister to be raised by our mother who had little education. She worked hard as a waitress and provided us with the necessities of life. My mother suffered from depression and was withdrawn emotionally from all people. I wasn't very happy growing up.

I managed to get through school until the eleventh grade and then decided I didn't want to attend school anymore. I had grown rebellious and over my mother's ardent protest I quit school in 1963.

I tried my hand at a couple of small jobs, but basically just hung around the house and got on my mother's nerves. One day after talking with a friend of hers, she asked me how I felt about going into the service. This was 1964 and the Vietnam "conflict" was just that. Hardly a blip on the news scene. I thought about it and became very fond of the idea. I was bored and was aware I was going nowhere fast. I particually liked the idea of being independent and away from home. (Not a good reason to join the service in retrospect.) I talked to an Army recruiter when I turned 17 and decided to join the Army. He said I could pick my first assignment so I said I would like to go to Hawaii. He said that took a four year enlistment and I said fine and signed on the dotted line.

After a tearful goodbye with my mother and a what in the hell look from my two sisters I left for the Army. I was sent to Ft. Gordon, Georgia for basic training. From there I was sent to Ft. Ord, California for AIT. I attended radio school to become a radio/telegraph operator. Everything was going along fine. When I first got to Ft. Ord as a very immature 17 year old, I went through a couple of weeks of home sickness that was horrible. Until that point in my life, good or bad, everything had revolved around my mother. It eventually passed and never returned thankfully.

After finishing AIT I was sent to Schofield Barracks in Hawaii. I had orders for the 5th Mech Bn of the 25th Inf. I was sent on a Navy contract ship by sea from California. The trip took 5 days and that was where I met Herbert Shupe, an E-2 like me and he was a medic. We quickly became close friends and remained that way until his death. He was older than me (he was 22) and was the first person that treated me like an individual and friend. I will never forget that.

When we arrived at Schofild Barracks the bus was dropping people off in the Quads. When we got to the Quad for the 3rd Brigade of the 25th Inf, Herbert and I said later and he got off. A First Sergeant came on the bus and started asking what everyones MOS was. I said I was a 05b.20 radio operator. He said "great, we need a radio man, get off the bus." That quickly my orders were changed. I was now assigned to HHC 1st Bn 14th Inf 25th Inf Div (GoldenDragons.) It kept me and Shupe together.

We went through months of intense field training and survival camps on the Big Island and on Oahu. They even had a mock POW camp set up with NCO's that spoke Vietnamese. It didn't take long to figure out what was coming. In October 1965 the entire 25th Div got orders to deploy to Vietnam. In January 1966 we all departed aboard ship for Vietnam. We had all trained together for months and were all close. Unusual for the Vietnam war. We spent 13 days crossing the Pacific and had plenty of time to discuss what was upcoming. We all made sure we portrayed a macho image, no matter how we felt inside. None of us really knew what to expect.

We arrived in Vietnam during the 3rd week of January 1966 and were sent to the central highlands in Pleiku. The 1st Brigade (including the 5th Mech) were sent to Cu Chi.

Pleiku base camp didn't exist. The nearest American unit was a MACV compound 11 klicks away. We built the base camp at Pleiku with tent kits, sandbags and moved in. We immediately started out on combat missions into the Ia Drang Valley. I was given an ANPRC/25 to backpack.

I was scared to death the first time I went into combat in Feburary 1966. I did my job and survived. Eventually I became numb to everything and combat was just something to survive until I could get back to the "World."

The next year was a confusing kladeidoscope of noise, nights so dark you couldn't see your hand in front of your face, blowing sand, monsoons, mud, hunger, thrist, bone wearying fatigue, boredom, fear, misery and death. We had the dubious pleasure of being on the longest continuous Army operation in history, Operation Paul Revere. We lost 31 men from my unit. On November 19, 1966 we lost 14 men in one 7 hour battle in the Ia Drang Valley. Herbert was among them. I didn't know it at the time, but I was changed for life.

I finished my Vietnam tour disillusioned, angry and silent. All I had to show for it was a few scars, a handfull of bits of ribbon and metal and a quite, raging anger at life. I dreaded returning to the states. I didn't like what I felt I had become.

From Vitnam I went home for a 30 day leave. I was a stranger to my family and they were strangers to me. It mattered little to me either way. I'm 55 years old now and we have never managed to regain a close relationship. I rarely see them. I stayed drunk for 30 days and then went to my next assigment, Ft Bragg, N.C.

I got my G.E.D. while at Ft. Bragg because the Army made me. I was glad later as it allowed me to use my educational benefits and attend college. I had about 2 years of my enlistment left.

I got married the first time in 1968 while assigned to Ft. Bragg. My wife and I had a son. When he was two months old I was reassigned to Berlin, Germany. Russia had invaded Czechoslovakia and they wanted combat veterans and radio operators. My luck was better this time. It all turned into just another big face off. I spent my time monitoring our frequencies while the dammned East Germans jammed them with a looped tape counting to 10 in German. (I can still count to 10 in German.)Whenever I was off duty I got in trouble. My last year in the Army I got over 20 Artcle 15's and was recommended for a Court Martial once. (The charges of striking an NCO were dropped.) It was only because I had a Lt Colonel that had did 2 tours in Vietnam looking out for me that I eventually was honorably discharged. He knew what was wrong with me. I didn't find that out until much later. (I wish he had told me. Not that I would have listened then.)

While in Germany the Red CRoss informed me my son was severely ill and the Army sent me back to Ft Bragg. I finished my 4 year tour there and was discharged. While waiting, I was able to go home on week ends.

I was discharged in Feb 1969 and our son died in November 1969. He was 14 months old. The world experts couldn't figure out what was wrong with him. He had the best doctors Duke and other hospitals could find. They even flew a pediatric specialist in from Europe. It wasn't until 1974 that I found out I had been exposed to massive amounts of Agent Orange. I'm sure the doctors were confused by a lack of research (or hidden research) at the time and my son was probably the first baby they had seen with birth defects caused by Agent Orange. My son died of a neurological disorder that new research connects to agent orange exposure. They also found out it skips generations. They still don't know why. My other son and both my daughters have had serious problems following birth, but none as serious as my first son. My first daughter spent over two months in the neo natal intensive care unit. All my children have severly depressed immune systems which causes frequent illness. They have various other health problems, but as they age they get stronger. The doctors expect them all to live a full, normal life. Thank God. My present wife and I have had a lot of sleepless nights laying beside our children in the hospital and have shed a lot of tears together. To look at them you wouldn't know anything was wrong with them. The VA of course denies any connection between the two despite overwhelming evidence. In time.

My first wife got pregnant again. I was drinking heavily. When my second son was 2 months old she took him and left while I was at work. We never reconciled.

I spent the next 3 years wandering the country. Working odd jobs, drinking and dodging the law. I was totally lost. In 1973 I tried to committ suicide and was admitted to a VA hospital in Maryland. I was on a locked ward there for 5 months. Counseling and medication finally stabilized me and I was discharged after making local permanent living arrangements. (A requirement back then, not now.) My "arrangements" included marrying my second wife who was a VA employee. She had to have been as crazy as I was. She had 3 small daughters that we raised until the youngest graduated from High school and then I packed and left. She had 14 years of my drinking and getting in trouble with the law. She was glad to see me go. I signed our house, property and everything over to her and left with a suitcase. I just didn't care.

It was 1986 and I was back in North Carolina. I joined AA and stopped drinking because I was convinced I was going insane or was going to die.. Strangely things immediately started getting better. Duh. I have now been sober for 16 years. (Thank God.) I married my 3rd wife in 1988.

In 1991 while working in Raleigh NC I was involved in a serious accident at work. In the accident I was literally electrocuted and fell 20 feet onto a concrete floor and broke my back, several ribs and both elbows. I had muscles pulled from the bone by the electrically induced spasms. I had a hole blown through my hand and my feet and lower legs were severely blistered. There was no exit wound. About 5 minutes after arriving in the emergency room I died, but they revived me. A priest was sent in to offer me last rights. I told him I wasn't Catholic and to please call my wife before the office did and let her know I was alright. I didn't know she had already been called and told to get my family to the hospital. He called her and said he had just talked to me. That helped.

I spent several weeks in intensive care and months in recovery as an outpatient. I survived in spite of what the doctors told my wife to expect. When they realized I was going to live, they told her they didn't think I would ever walk again. She swears I'm too ornery to die. It was 2 months after discharge from Duke before I could manage to walk over 50 feet. I cried (privately) and pushed myself and pushed myself and cried The pain was unbelievable. The tears were from frustration. The day of my accident my wife had found out she was pregnant and could hardly wait until I got home to tell me. She told me in the emergency room. I HAD to live. Today I can jog and play sports.

It was during this period that my nightmares and flashbacks greatly increased. I no longer had alcohol to put me into oblivion and the accident, as I found out later, had greatly intensified the PTSD symptoms that I had suffered with for years and had never known what was wrong. I thought all veterans felt the same way. I went into intensive counseling at a Veterans Center in Raleigh. It saved my life. For the first time I started becoming aware of what was wrong with me. After almost 5 years of individual counseling, I was accepted at the inpatient PTSD treatment program in Salem, Virgina. It was the longest 6 weeks of my life, but I finished and returned to follow up counseling at the Vet Center where I remain to this day.

I am no longer able to work. I'm totally and permanently service connected for PTSD and since I did mange to work some over the years, also get Social Security disability. We won't ever be rich, but we are getting by.

My wife (Gina) and I have two beautiful daughters Deanna 10 and Adrienne 2 and a half. We are happy and content with life. Something I never expected in my wildest dreams. We have been married 14 years and look forward to the next 14. It is really wonderful to be able to look ahead, instead of always back, though at times the dark clouds do return.. I still occasionally have nighmares and flashbacks, but I have tools to deal with them now. I also have learned where they are coming from and have learned they will pass. I have also learned to anticipate them around "anniversary" dates. My wife has been unbelievably understanding and patient. I get better everyday. My past no longer controls the present and the future. We love each other and whenever she needs me, I am there before she can ask.

I attend the Vet Center regularly and try to share with other vets the things I had to learn the hard way. I can only hope it helps someone. We are involved with several groups that addresses veterans issues and make sure Washington stays informed of what is happening in the the real world of veterans.

I know I skipped a lot, even some major events in my life, but this gives the general idea. I don't offer advice, but I do make suggestions. I keep my suggestions to my personal experience. That's all I really know about.

For all veterans and especially combat veterans. Don't be too proud, ashamed, or afraid to tell someone you need help. That attitude almost killed me. As soon as I got the courage to share with others what was going on inside of myself, I found out for the first time I wasn't alone. That is one thing that always sticks with me. For years many of us walked around feeling "less than" because of emotions we couldn't control. Fear, anxiety, depression, hopelessness and on and on.

It was only when I became willing to share others burdens with them, that my burden got lighter. Much lighter.

We are all human beings. Nature never intended us to be turned into "killing machines." Unfortunately the realities of life force some to take on this role for the good of the whole. All veterans have my undying respect and gratitude. Combat or not, the training is there.

After the battle is over, after the war is won, we can return home and live a long peaceful civilian life. It does take a concious effort and for many, hard work. Those who have been before need to share with those answering the call today. We are all brothers and sisters with a bond that defies time and circumstances. The reward is more than worth the effort.

Dennis,
Proud to be a GoldenDragon until God calls me home.

"OURS WAS A NOBLE CAUSE."