VietNow National Magazine

The veteran you read about somewhere. The one who's in prison. How "bad" is he, really? What do you actually know about him? Do you ever wonder how he got where he is? Do you wonder where he came from? Chances are good that he started out just like us.

Article by Matt Davison

He was just like you and me. He grew up in a working class neighborhood in the early '60s, played middle linebacker on the high school varsity, and was the class clown. He was never named the most likely to succeed, but that didn't bother him. He knew his best days were ahead of him.

America was heading in a different direction from the '50s. Sex, drugs, and rock and roll became part of the vernacular. Music was louder, hair longer, and there was talk of war in some far-off land. Most of his schoolmates paid no attention to the talk. They were having too much fun, and the war had nothing to do with them. He was different in this regard. He still remembered parades on Memorial Day and Veterans Day, and seeing men in uniform marching in step sent chills up his spine. He wanted to be like them, to wear a uniform. To make a difference.

Best choice was the Army

Finally, graduation came. It was 1966. Now what? He didn't have the grades, money, or even the interest to go on to college. But there were those uniforms. Maybe he could fulfill his fantasy. Travel, and make new friends. It didn't take long for the Army recruiter to convince him that serving his country was the most honorable thing he could do now that he had completed high school. The recruiter even came by his house to talk with his parents, and convince them of all the educational benefits he could receive from serving. He signed up that same day. Having been an athlete, boot camp was more fun than hardship. He regarded every obstacle course, march, and PT session as a challenge. It was him against the drill sergeants, and he never lost a challenge. Assignments were handed out at the end of boot camp. He would be going to Vietnam for a year. He would be assigned upon arrival.

Vietnam is where everything changed

He still remembers his first encounter with the enemy. He will always remember it. Throughout his young life, he was always taught that it was a mortal sin to take a life, even if it were only an insect. Yet, when faced by an enemy prepared to take his life, he was given no choice. He can still see the eyes rolled back, and there was nothing he could do to bring that life back. He had crossed the line. Throughout his tour, he saw horrible things that would be with him the rest of his life. He took other lives, and saw close buddies lose theirs. Days dragged on through heat, wet, and cold. Through filth and never enough rest. Until one day, it was 24 days and a wake-up.

It was hard getting used to being back home

He was told upon landing back in the world to take off his uniform and keep it off. He wasn't ready for the hate that met him as he left the airport. When he got home, nobody cared. They hadn't even noticed he was gone. His parents noticed. They noticed that he wasn't the devil-may-care teen who left them over a year ago. Instead, they encountered a withdrawn, hyper-vigilant young man seemingly older than his years. They also noticed a pent-up anger that was like a hot round about to go off.

Drugs seemed like the answer until they became the problem

He doesn't recall when he started to self medicate. First it was pot, then it was worse drugs. How to you get what you need when you can't hold a job to pay for them? And how do you pay for them without taking money from your ­parents when they weren't watching, or without selling drugs out on the street for a profit, so you could buy more drugs. Whatever he had to do to repress the memories of that time and place, he did it. He knew it was the only way he could survive. The law of averages will finally catch up, and it caught up with him on the streets, trying to sell drugs to an undercover narc.

Since he was a first offender, he only had to serve four months in state prison. It was the hardest four months in his life, being clean. Worse, the nightmares returned, along with the anger, fist fights with other prisoners, and reclusiveness. The first thing he did upon his release, was find his source for drugs, ease the pain, and begin selling again. The second arrest and conviction didn't go so easily for him. There was no veterans court at that time to give him the option of rehabilitation over incarceration. The VA was just getting a handle on PTSD and self medication. This time, it would be 24 months behind bars.

Why did he go down that road and we didn't? What was the difference?

I've never understood why you and I may have returned with our lives seemingly intact, while others went over the line. Went beyond the tipping point. Why some were indestructible, while others shattered like glass. Were they overwhelmed by the pain of lives taken and lives lost, to the insanity of war? How big a role did religion have, and the guilt associated turning away from religious teachings?

And while he may be imprisoned, a marked man for the rest of his days, he did serve our country, and he served honorably, just as you and I did. When we say thank you ­
for your service, and welcome home, to our brother and sister veterans, we must remember to thank and welcome them home as well.

In appearance he may seem just like us, but in reality, he grew far apart from us, and is still trying to find his own way home. Do not spit on him again.

National Veterans Incarcerated Chairman, Matt Davison lives in California, and works with veterans incarcerated every day.

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