Echoes

I’m pleased to report that things are going well in my life. Like everyone, random bills hit me hard sometimes and family stresses me out (I won’t even talk about Turkey Day this year), but I move on. And I’m pleased to announce that I’ve just signed with Writer’s House Literary Agency, which was a dream coming true – a four year goal finally achieved.

But there are echoes of my past life – the manic life of the young man returning from war – that still sound off even today.

I told you once about a friend; an old Marine buddy, roommate, and childhood friend. We’ve been seeing each other occasionally for coffee or meeting up to watch football, but he’s fallen on the wayside again.

I got this voice message from him two weeks ago: “Hey, man. I really need someone to talk to cause I don’t have any friends. And my girlfriend just cheated on me and I just want to go out and chill and drink a few beers.”

I knew it was going to be bad but how could I say no? I knew he had been sober for some time, and gotten a nice job, and behaved like a normal, calm civilian. But he was relapsing into the insanity of never really dealing with his mental health problems and them flaring up again. The girlfriend, as much as that hurt him, would just be a catalyst for reliving more pain.

We went to the bar. I told him I wouldn’t let him get too drunk, but really, how was I going to stop him? I told him he needed to start doing healthy things: like not moving in with a girl he had just met; taking martial arts again to help focus and discipline his mind; not start drinking again.

“I just want to become a Marine again,” he said. And it was true: war was the easy part for us veterans. We did what we had been conditioned and trained to do, and we did it well. But no one really prepared us, or watched after us for when came home.

It’s crazy but I still feel the same too sometimes. I think: "if s*** gets too bad, I can always go back to Iraq.” The real world – taking care of, and being responsible for yourself – that’s the hard part. The military is an easy system to adapt to and understand. Life runs like a well-oiled machine when you are in service, because you have a purpose and a mission and that is all.

“You’re doing well for yourself man,” I told him. “You’ve just hit a bump. You’ve got to quit thinking about war, man. You’d probably just see more of your buddies die.”

At about 11 pm, surprisingly, he abruptly informed me that he was ready to go home.

“Awesome,” I replied. He didn’t seem very drunk at all.

An hour later I got a call. He had been pulled over by the cops for driving ninety on his motorcycle. I was a little buzzed myself, so I had another friend pick him up.

We saved him that weekend, but the following Friday he whipped his body into a tree after getting drunk and driving in the same way. He did come out the coma. No one believed he would have survived.

I get angry when I see my veteran friends imploding. I want to shake them say, “Cut it the f*** out! Yes you’ve been to war and seem some rough s***, but we need to you to be okay. We need you to move on!”

I’ve moved on, but I still remember my training: I am not allowed to leave a man behind. And I am understanding this now as the toughest mission.

Connect with Dario online:

Personal Website (Free Writing, Podcast, Dario in the Media, Biography, Books, Blogs)

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JMWW Literary Journal (Senior Nonfiction Editor)

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Behind the Wounds: A Look Into the Documentary Series

Thanks again to Steven Freitas for his hard work on Camouflaged Wounds. Thank you to Not Alone for producing the project (and covering all the pesky media expenses). And thank you especially to Tracy Miller for her courage and bravery in sharing the story of her son.

It was a scary prospect for me, a veteran Marine myself, to sit down with the mother of a fallen brother warrior, and try to share his story appropriately and with all the honor due him. I never knew Nick but it is clear to me after learning about his tale, that the world lost a truly upstanding and awesome young man. He is missed by many. I will be thinking of him often too.

I wanted to do the story of a relative of someone killed in the wars for this first episode, because I think those are the easily forgotten stories. There’s a finality in death not apparent in mental health and physical issues that many of the two million surviving troops still endure as their wounds of war. But that doesn’t mean that the hurt and pain goes away. Resources and support still need to be offered to the families and friends of the fallen.

I think it’s so amazing all the things Tracy is doing to make the reality of her son’s passing something positive. What wasn’t included in the video was the fact that Tracy also ran for local politics, campaigning on the issues her son cared about. You didn’t get to see her interactions with all the student veterans, or get to understand how much they cherish her for all she does for them. I wanted to write this blog to make everyone aware of how great of a person she really is.

These wars, like all wars, are brutal and deadly. I have a hope that many will rise up like Tracy, and try to take the impact of this decade long struggle against terrorism and reshape it into something positive. We must learn from the past. We must take care of our veterans. We must, like Tracy, strive for a better world. 

You can watch Tracy's story about the passing of her son Nick here.

Connect with Dario online:

Personal Website (Free Writing, Podcast, Dario in the Media, Biography, Books, Blogs)

20 Something Magazine (Editor-in-Chief, Creator)

JMWW Literary Journal (Senior Nonfiction Editor)

The Veterans Writing Project (Instructor, Nonfiction Editor)

LinkedIn (Professional Stuff)

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Veterans Day

I will wear my ribbons today, even though most of them don’t mean anything to me except my Combat Action Ribbon and sea service deployment ribbon with a star. (The others were “gimmes,” as I call them. Here’s a Presidential Unit Citation for staying alive. Here’s a medal for being a Reservist who actually deployed – congratulations on just doing your job.) I will pin them to my chest with a mixture of pride, anger, and embarrassment.

I will be proud of my service to my country and its defense. I’m most proud of how, in some existential way, I’ve defended the constitution by enlisting and I’ve helped secure and protect the great freedoms we have in America or for other peoples around the world. I’m an artist. The first amendment means more to me than anything that has ever been codified in English. I would grab a rifle again anytime if the Department of Defense ever failed or tyranny somehow invaded our Democracy, and a new power tried to silence me.

I will be angry that we’re still in Afghanistan with a strategy that I find suspect at best. If we want to win this war, then let’s do it. If we’re just trying to prevent a resurgence of terrorist activity from coming to America again, then let’s just do that – we’d only need several thousand Special Forces and support troops on the ground for that strategy. But this middle ground, this gray area of political tomfoolery and waffling, is only causing a wastage of human life; the daily passing of men and woman whom I still regard as brothers and sisters. I will also be mad about the suicide of eighteen veterans a day.

And I will be embarrassed. Still ashamed of the fact I didn’t do more. I will feel inadequate when comparing my story to the sacrifices of so many others who’ve endured battle after battle, seeing combat on hundreds of occasions now. Do you realize that we’ve been at war for almost ten years now? The character of the men who continue to reenlist and sign up truly humbles me. That’s a fortitude and bravery I can’t comprehend. I will wear my ribbons to draw attention to their sacrifices. Someone has to care for them because they don’t have any sense of self.

I’ve got a whole four stacks of ribbons – sometimes we called them salad bowls because of the bright colors. I performed satisfactory when taking fire and I went where my country needed me. I’m proud, angry, and embarrassed. It’s too much emotion to have, because it’s not really my day.

This one’s for the men in the fighting holes in southern Afghanistan right now. This one’s for Corporal Dunham. This one’s for the men I miss and remember every day. This one’s for the men and women I will never meet. Cheers.

~ Semper Fi ~

Connect with Dario online:

Personal Website (Free Writing, Podcast, Dario in the Media, Biography, Books, Blogs)

20 Something Magazine (Editor-in-Chief, Creator)

JMWW Literary Journal (Senior Nonfiction Editor)

The Veterans Writing Project (Instructor, Nonfiction Editor)

LinkedIn (Professional Stuff)

Facebook (Be my friend?)