BROTHERS LOST, LESSONS LEARNED: A JOURNEY FROM COMBAT TO CIVILITY

When I returned from Vietnam, the weight of it all hit me hard. The memories of lost brothers, the bonds we shared, they wouldn’t leave me. There was no escaping the anger or the depression. I couldn’t take criticism, couldn’t listen to advice. It was like I had become something else, someone they couldn’t understand.

It took time and the patience of those close to me. They stood by, enduring the change in me. I had to find a way to let go of the man I was over there. The one who fought, the one who lived in fear and knew death was always close. But letting go wasn’t easy. The need to stay alert, to remain ready, to walk through the world like you’re still in the jungle wasn’t something I could just drop.

There came a point when I had to distance myself from those who tried to help me. I had to change my thinking. I had to leave behind the man who always waited for the next attack. I couldn’t live in that place anymore. I had to find a new way to be. But that wasn’t simple. It wasn’t just about adapting; it was about surviving in a world that didn’t understand what I had seen and done.

To this day, I find myself walking the right side of the road, sitting with my back to the wall, jumping at the sound of a chopper or jet, and checking my skin before I sleep. Old habits are born from…