A Different View of PTSD

By Art Ball



Like many young men, I grew up in a small town.  I was born a scant five years after the end of WWII, so most of the men I knew locally were recent veterans.  And the tenets of patriotism, loyalty and morality were deeply instilled into my being.  I knew military service was an expected part of my life, as education was!  Following my dad’s boot tracks I planned to join the Air Force.  Then Vietnam reared its ugly head!  Many American lads opted to move to Canada, as opposed to military service.  However, this option was never comfortable for me.  So I applied for, and received, a college deferment. As my college time was waning, I had to re-apply for an extension or fac the prospect of being drafted.

I appeared before my draft board and really laid it on thick about having deep moral convictions about killing people.  Yet I knew it was a lie!  My ‘convictions’ were probably no deeper than any other draft-age kid; and also like that kid, I didn’t relish being killed on foreign soil!  I was, however willing to serve in the military-that presented no problem to me.  Well, the Board made their decision; and I was classified 1-A-O which means I was available for military service, BUT the U.S. Government was prohibited from placing me in any combat position (either career field or battlefield).

So I shoved my ‘deceitfully created CYA shield in my pocket and shipped out to Lackland for Basic and Sheppard AFB (Wichita Falls, TX) for pavement Mce Tech school before arriving at my permanent base (for all four years) DMAFB in Tucson, AZ.  My duties consisted primarily of mowing grass and tree trimming on base.  My ‘war stories’ consist of chasing road runners and Gila monsters and avoiding too many tacos!  During my tour at D-M I did become a true born-again Christian!  Then I began to regret my lying to the draft board and fabricating my own status. Many of my military brothers and sisters were discharged with a type of PTSD in which they wonder why they survived the war, while their buddies perished.  I was discharged with a form of PTSD (AKA shame) for the way I had manipulated my circumstances.  Ironically, as I continued my walk with Christ, I came to realize that had I truly believed my convictions I would ha e been able to place the matter in His hands and let Him lead, as to whether I went to Nam or not.

After my discharge, I went to work for USPS for a 40+ year career an I found many combat vets also working there.  As I came to know them better, I began to apologize for my lying.  In my mind this was only one step above those deserters who had chosen life north of the border.  But, to a man, they said I had nothing to apologize for, because I had also worn the uniform.  They considered me no less a vet than they were.  With their compassion, acceptance, much prayer and the slow passage of time, I realized God had truly been directing my life (even way back then) and He orchestrated my draft status, not me!  And although in my mind, Nam vets deserve more honor than I do, I no longer shy away from “thank you for your service” comments or from having an occasional meal ought for me.  And I often do likewise when I’m able to do so.

I hear much discussion of PTSD and combat vets, and believe it needs to talked about; but how about shame-filled vets and the darkness of soul they have endured (from Nam and all wars)?  I write my story to encourage others.  You wore the uniform-you are also a veteran!  There is hope available!  Please speak up and stop suffering in silence!