new years eve day

I could’nt even cry. My mind was going a mile a minute trying to know what to do. The man asked me some questions about the so called drugs and scared as I was I lied and made up something that when it is read now looks silly and hard to believe a navel intelligence officer even bought it-I thought in such haste thinking if I made myself sound worse they would just get rid of me. But I was sent back across the lawn to barracks D. And I wanted to cry and could’nt because I was thinking of what it was going to be like going back in there.

The building was awake and full of activity when I went in-and the gate to the D section was open which was the case every day during daylight-although other sections of the building stayed locked in.

I went into the barracks and the group involved in the night before looked at me with grins when they saw me return. No body else seemed to pay me any attention-nor seemed to care that I was all soiled or bloody or anything. The only people that payed any attention to me was those three guys and this guy at the end of the row of bunks where most of the population slept-Bob.

Bob sort of became my protector,but he was’nt there all the time to be able to keep with me-his case was such that he was living in a house on Virginia Beach with his wife and had liberty privledges and was able to go home during the week ends. He was hippie looking and had a moustache that seemed more fu manchu than navy style and he realized when I walked by that something was wrong and he was the first person to be kind to me since my brother had gotten me from my families house the day before.

As I walked past the three men from the night before the guy with the funny voice called me ‘mister’ again…like he did speaking out in the darkness the night before . I have hated to be called ‘mister’ ever since-a word like calling a black man a ‘nigger’ it is that cutting to me.

Something keeps booting me off the computer and since I’ve started writing these memories I have lost a few earlier writings and that is why I’ve become wary of the computer again and worried to write as I feel I need to…and yet I am in fear of writing and looseing my words. The next two months in barracks D effected the rest of my life…to this day. I am fifty-five years old and still cannot shake the fears instilled in me that night and the days and nights that followed.

I have been in treatment for PTSD for the last year and a half , post traumatic stress disorder. I see a therapist each week…and now am doing a group session on top of that-but cannot say that is going to change much. I cannot go to the bathroom any morning – any day and not have instant recall of that period in my life. I cannot go into any restroom any where and not feel the deja vu of going into the head in barracks D . I’ve always thought the artist that plays the violen piece in the movie ‘Phsyco’ knew what real pain was…because that literally s the sound in my ears when I enter a restroom-and even certain buildings…I definantly did not leave my circumstances in barracks D behind. I was given an HONORABLE DISCHARGE in Feburary 1970 and was set free , but to no where to go. My father shut the door on me and I have never had the relationship with my family that should have been-my brother Frank died a few years ago and I saw him on his death bed the day before….and in his breath he was able to whisper “Jay…you were such a disappointment”. And thats how I’ve felt for all of these years-filthy and ashamed and a disappointment-and guilty because like it or not we having a war and my duty to my country was’nt recognized as it really was. I wanted to be there…it was my new life and was going to be my life. I pinned my oldest son Chief two weeks ago. He is in submarine service USN and has been in the Navy since the day after he graduated high school. He always said he did it all for me-being witness to how my disgrace always kept me in a state of loss and drinking and dispair as a boy , always being a victim himself hearing me talk about my failure.

There is about two months more of what took place after I returned to barracks D and I intend to write it-just as I said , not being computer witty and not wanting to loose what I’ve done this will have to come in short spurts.

6 Responses to “new years eve day”

  1. Kris Says:

    Thankyou for posting this I know what you’re going through
    I just want you to know that you are NOT a DISSAPOINTMENT
    Stay strong

    • jayherron Says:

      very kind of you to say so, and sorry that you know what we are going through…plus,I forwarded your request to the artist (Lisa) and hopefully she will respond! peace

  2. Maria Says:

    It’s so sad to know that you didn’t have the support of your family after what happened to you! I want to tell that You are really brave and strong thanks for sharing your story it gives me strength.

  3. Victor Says:

    I really don’t know what to say…wow! I’m 19, and I was raped for four years starting when I was nine. I have to say the thing that is the hardest in this post to me is the fact that you blame yourself in a way. Your brother, on his deathbed being so cold-hearted…and that even now after so many years still have a fear of restrooms, its sad. A bit of advice, accept what happened, forgive those that caused it, and most importantly, DO NOT blame yourself!

  4. enlightenedhorsemanship Says:

    You do not disappoint. You have much to give and much to be so proud of. I am sorry for those who did not *see* you. What you do here in this space, with honesty and REAL (not theatrical or hyped up military style) CORAGE matters. A lot. Thank you.

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