Speaking flat out as a veteran, I know right off, a writer I’m not. These words flow from my heart with an urgency equal in intensity to the wars I’ve fought. PTSD tries to stand in my way, but my message to you will not be swept away. With a heavy heart overwhelmed by haunted memories of grief, rage, and an ocean of tears, I only ask you to hear my pleas. Far heavier than the strapped supplies I bore on my back in those days of yore, the load strapped to my heart in current days weighs far heavier. But by the grace of the man upstairs, a lifetime of trauma now fuels my resolve to convey a determination for survival. May we secure in our hearts and souls a new strength and understanding to learn how to cope and live with PTSD, to hold our ground and never back down. Holding our heads high, we continue to shout: I am a soldier and I’m marching on I am a warrior and this is my song My eyes are steel and my stare is long I am a warrior and this is my song. Seventy five years young, Vietnam War included, I survived traumas many times. I mean what I say and say what I mean without hesitation. Always know I’m here for you, willing to always lay my life down for you. Feeling down and wanting to give up? Whether you walk as a civilian brother or sister or as a fellow veteran, my arms reach out to embrace you right now with these words: You are never alone and have purpose for marching on. The coping skills you possess will implore your heart to once again fight—fight to heal, fight for life. Author’s Note: I was born in 1946 in a small town, Altadena, Calif. Look out! The fun began immediately. First trauma was as a newborn. The largest concentration of trauma occurred at age three ranging from TBI to abandonments and severe beatings. Trauma was peppered throughout the years tapering down as of late. I’ve been diagnosed with most every malady known to mankind and been on more types of drugs than I remember. Long story short, life’s journey has been rough but as Jon Voight stated in Runaway Train, “Whatever doesn’t kill me makes me stronger.” I’m currently waiting to enter the veterans ptsd program. My passion is helping others, my fellow veterans. Brother and sister vets put their lives on the line and basically vowed to do so for a lifetime. My father, Norman L Janssen was a World War II vet with stories (the one and only time he talked about it) that would curl a sailor’s hair. He served under General Patton in the Battle of the Bulge. I recall as a child walking with him around the square in Lyons, Kan. As we walked he, without hesitation, blurted out “shoulders back boy, suck that belly in, head up, eyes straight ahead, and a few other admonitions I’m probably not recalling. I did know how strange I felt trying to comply with all these requests. Mom was an aspiring movie queen, raised in various parts of California. Her other aspirations included acting, singing and dancing. Her appearance was stunning as a young woman.