I got this from a member of my Battalion who was there from 66 to 67.
He was with A Co, who was almost massacred twice in a three and a half week period. The first time was 2-16-67, 20 KIA, 21 WIA and the second time was 3-14-67, 14 KIA, 35 WIA.
http://1-22infantry.org/kia/kiaalpha.htm
He's not the author, but for all intent and purposes, he could/should have been. A good read.
From The Abyss - Tick Tick Tick
- Author Unknown
Then.
Now.
Whenever screamers, miserable adrenaline spikes, ...
No, escapes ....
Tick Tick Tick -
A crusty oldness, belied still young faces.
Gray confusion.
Now, can this still be happening?
Fight or flight, run amok,
at any time day or night.
Tears won't come.
Saw too much.
Substance abuse.
No, you don't understand.
Sometimes I feel like a crap magnet.
Sometimes I just feel like crap.
Horrid smell of burning human flesh.
I don't do elevators.
I sit with my back to the wall.
Shades always drawn.
Poison Ivy, in my brain.
Worse than the worse, you, can ever imagine.
1000 other weirdness's.
Here becomes there & vice versa.
Tick Tick Tick.
White knuckle it, thru thunderstorms at night.
Sounds like artillery.
I don't like me.
No warning...just go off to another place.
Bunker in the basement.
Thou shalt not kill.
Don't even know my own kids.
Hour long minutes.
Friends stopped being friends.
Soul ache.
Violence, love it, hate it.
Where ever, am I going?
Ripped up my anniversary dates.
No pain.
Knife under the pillow.
Knife in my pocket.
Rotation, DEROS.
Blend back into society.
Tick Tick Tick.
Haunted haunting.
Harsh sights, sounds and odors.
Flashbacks.
Realities of war exist in no lexicon.
1,000 yard stare.
Lost at home.
Psychic sewage.
Time garbage.
Everything in war was vile and absolute.
Storm clouds from one unholy place.
Cold sweats.
Racing heart.
Burned my uniform.
A thought prisoner.
Try to act normal.
0200
0300
0400
Hey, I am still alone here?
Death is not even a threat anymore.
Re-occurring dreams and nightmares.
Lose entire days somewhere.
Languishing behind my wall.
Mad minute.
Hyper startle.
Pulse racing.
Dr Jekyll sans Mr Hyde.
Every year just another rerun.
Tick Tick Tick.
What's relaxation?
Broken spirit.
Revenge, revenge, revenge.
We couldn't even find his arm.
Uninvited guest with baggage.
Some critical part of me, never made it back.
Hatred, disgust.
Have no interests.
Grisly images of KIA's flash, fade, flash.
4 point restraints.
Totally lost in the system.
Blood everywhere.
Young, naive, scarred for life.
Heavy survivor guilt.
May, January, August, .. who cares?
Children screaming in pain and fear.
Murky depression.
Hang a morphine drip and leave them to die.
Protocol?
Can't stay here... too many people.
Single car accident or suicide in slim disguise?
Bouncing Betty's are big time bad news.
Can't do the nurse thing, anymore.
Just go away.
Had a job for a while.
Tick Tick Tick.
You're finally cured, when you die.
Protocol?
What now?
Selective amnesia would be good.
I can't plan for anything.
Am I going to die tonight?
Never leave the house for days.
I just don't care.
Shocking red anger.
Tick Tick Tick.
Nightmares in 3-D.
Blindsided by everyday things and no answers.
Hearts ramped up to triple speed.
Sleep or awake.
VA & C&P dance marathon.
Train wreck.
Fireworks/incoming/no cover
and a joke to everyone else.
Please don't crowd me in a corner.
Then/now, emotional void.
Hurt the ones you love.
Always dark and cold.
Divorced or two or three times
or hurting the ones that stay by you.
Hyper cautious.
Criticized - ostracized and isolated.
Don't want to talk about it... anything.
Does anyone even know me or
care about the little things I need done?
Am I crazy?
UN-saintly hours of the night.
Tick Tick Tick.
Speed and speed and taunting,
all known laws of physics.
Volatility.
Sparse support system.
Steele cold eyes.
Second by second by second.
Mind babble at night.
Social pariah.
Learn to act properly in society,
by their rules.
Drift about like a nomad.
Language foul and incomprehensible.
No. No. No. No!!
Just get out of my face.
Sleep! What is that?
Hey Uncle Sam, remember me?
Tick Tick Tick.
Psychotropics.
Months of nothingness.
Hyper vigilance.
Demons at your dance every night.
Spooked or aroused
by the sound of a chopper!
Memory is all out of sync.
Numb.
Drone and groan.
Violent beast within.
365 days of winter.
Agitated.
Right on the edge.
Foul odor of nightmare sweat.
Body quakes.
Nothing is what it used to be.
Yea, used to be a lot of things.
Perpetrator guilt.
Trust no one.
Get close to no one,
for they will be gone.
The Wall.
Cyndi, became Cynthia.
Double quick.
Hell revisited.
Some jail time.
Some acquaintances,
not many friends.
Concentration is AWOL.
High was price paid.
We served, we are veterans.
Wannabees are lower than pond scum.
Tick Tick Tick.
Long days, longer night.
Those of you that have passed on .. rest in peace.
Will anyone really love us?
PTSD does not mean you are crazy.
End - Author unknown