That was the plea of another casualty of the Iraq occupation. But it wasn't cried out on the far off battlefields in the deserts of Iraq, it was cried from behind the door of a small home in Pinehurst, NC on June 28th, as the police kicked in the door. On June 28th, Doc Dywer died of an overdose trying to suppress his demons. He died at an oh-so-young, but for many combat veterans an oh-so-old 31 years of age, leaving behind an estranged wife and daughter.
But rather than going on to enjoy the public affection for his act of heroism, he was consumed by the demons of combat stress he could not exorcise. For the medic who cared for the wounds of his combat buddies as they pushed toward Baghdad, the battle for his own health proved too much to bear.
"It doesn't mean you have a disorder that is going to be longstanding ... it is not just a federal responsibility, it is a national responsibility." - VA Secretary Peake
Who is Doc Dwyer and what did he do?
Dwyer served in Iraq with 3rd Squadron, 7th Cavalry Regiment as the unit headed into Baghdad at the beginning of the war. As they pushed forward for 21 days in March 2003, only four of those days lacked gunfire, he later told Newsday. The day before Warren Zinn snapped his photo for Military Times, Dwyer’s Humvee had been hit by a rocket.
About 500 Iraqis were killed during those days, and Dwyer watched as Ali’s family near the village of al Faysaliyah was caught in the crossfire. he grabbed the 4-year-old boy from his father and sprinted with him to safety. Zinn grabbed the moment on his camera. The image went nationwide and Dwyer found himself hailed as a hero.
This Independence Day, a day of flags and parades and fireworks, of beer and BBQs, you may have a chance to speak to a veteran or two, but don't expect to meet too many
As Americans stock up on Fourth of July fireworks with battlefield themes, those with actual war experience are adopting safety plans instead. Combat veterans in Oregon and southwest Washington say they are heading to quiet campsites, small family gatherings or the basement with earphones. They'll pre-stage their dreams before bed, visualizing different endings.
Depression, anxiety and drinking all spike around the Fourth of July, counselors say. "This time of year is stressful -- period," says Jim Sardo, a two-tour military psychologist who manages the PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder) Clinical Team and Substance Abuse Services at the Portland Veterans Affairs Medical Center. Unexpected bursts of noise, summer heat, crowds, traffic, forced gaiety and coolers of cold beer all contribute.
Of course, according to the VA, it is not a long-standing disorder.
If you are feeling exceptionally patriotic, maybe take a moment to write to your Congressman or Congresswoman to start drafting legislation on the Vet Commission's Recommendations, that would go a long way to help those of us still here on this earth battling our demons with minimal VA support. It is tragically too late for our hero Doc Dwyer, but not for the young man or woman down the street.
"Help me please, I'm dying" are not just Doc Dwyer's last words, they are also a cry to the nation from all of us who slowly physically and spiritually whither away in our own worlds and kill ourselves slowly with the booze and the drugs, or quickly with the bullet or the rope, as it is just too difficult and too long to get the proper treatment from the Administration of Veterans Affairs.
http://www.armytimes.com/...
http://www.vawatchdog.org/...
UPDATE: Wow, made the rec list, I don't know what to say. Thank you for helping to get the word out for everyone involved in the catastrophe, and please consider the action item to contact your representative about the Vet Commission. At the moment they are only recommendations, no one is doing anything about it and it is in danger of being shelved.
Perhaps we can also take solace that Doc Dwyer finally, although needlessly and tragically, found the peace he struggled so long to achieve
UPDATE: a tribute, from Vote Vets