Iraq VETERAN – SAMPLE Stressor Letter                         LIFE BEFORE MILITARY SERVICE                   I grew up in Bakersfield, California.  My early beginnings were uneventful and ordinary.  Just me, my three younger brothers and my mom and dad.  As I remember, being the oldest, my younger brothers always looked up to me.  In their eyes, I could do no wrong.  They always tried to do everything I did.                         When I played little league baseball, my family would attend all of my games.  I was pretty good at baseball.  I played centerfield and pitched.  Whenever I pitched, my younger brothers would mimic everything I did.  I remember seeing them rub their brow just the way I used to do when I was on the mound.                              When I was in high school I took a lot of automotive classes.  What I learned in school I always tried to use it to fix my dad’s cars.  Just as my younger brother’s emulated me when I was playing baseball, they tried to do as I did when I worked on my dad’s cars.                                   After I graduated from high school I worked as an automobile mechanic at a local dealership.  The job paid close to nothing, and because I was the new kid on the block I got all the crummy jobs. Also, the service manager at the dealership did not seem to like me.  He would yell at me everyday for nothing.  I always thought I should get paid to have someone yell at me.  Then one day it hit me, “Go join the Army.  They yell at you and you get paid for them to do it.”                           Before visiting with the Army recruiter, I visited with recruiters from the Marine Corps, Air Force, and Navy.  I wanted to make sure I was joining the right branch.  My visits with the other recruiters did not sit well with me, so I signed the contract and enlisted in the Army.                                                 LIFE DURING MILITARY SERVICE                       During basic training I met a lot of guys just like me.  Guys from all over the U.S., my age, and with similar backgrounds.  I felt like I discovered another family.                After I finished basic training and my tech school, I was stationed at Ft. Dix as an MP.  My first duty was to guard the front gate.  I was really good at checking ID, enforcing entrance standards, and doing any other job that was assigned to me.                          After two years at Ft. Dix I started to hear rumors that my unit was going to be called up and sent to Iraq.  Some wanted to go, others didn’t.  Me, I didn’t care one way or the other.                           Saturday morning, November 5, 2005, my supervisor called me on my cell phone and ordered me to work.  My unit was headed to Iraq.  So, I grabbed my duffle bag and headed to work.  When I got there we were briefed about our mission, given tons of shots, and driven to McGuire AFB.  When we got to the base there was a 747 waiting for us.  My unit and I boarded and we flew to Iraq.                         After being in an airplane for 21 hours you get a little edgy.  When we landed in Iraq I was in a bad mood.  I think other guys were as well.  I was quickly given orders that I was assigned to a prison camp.  My job was to guard Iraqi prisoners of war.                                  As I was driven to my unit I noticed that Iraq looked a lot like the deserts in Southern California.  I knew I was a long way from California, but the surroundings made me feel at peace oddly enough.  I wasn’t afraid at all.  Even though I knew I was in a combat zone, the desert mountains and the morale of my unit made me feel comfortable.  I learned real quick you don’t want to feel comfortable in a combat zone.                           Before I was sent to the prison camp, my commander at the time directed me to guard an entry point at a nearby unit.  My job was to check ID of all incoming personnel before they could enter the unit.                          One night, when I was tired, cranky, and a little weak, we got hit.  I saw the lights of a vehicle about 3 klicks away headed right for the unit.  Then it stopped and turned the lights off.  Next thing I saw was a flash.  The insurgents fired several RPGs at my unit.  The RPGs were landing everywhere.  I remember being very upset.  I kept thinking, “What cowards!  They are firing at me and my unit from long distance.  Why don’t they get closer so I can shoot ‘em?”  I quickly got my wish.                                This gung-ho captain ordered me and a few others to chase after the insurgents.  About 20-25 other MPs jumped in five Humvees and drove to the spot where the RPGs were coming from.  On the way there my Humvee was hit by an RPG.  Everything happened in slow motion.  I was on top of the Humvee manning a 50 caliber when the RPG hit the front of my Humvee.  Even though I know the explosion was loud, I didn’t hear a thing.  All I remember is that I was catapulted in the air.  I could see a huge fireball around the Humvee I was in.  Next thing I knew I was on the ground looking up at the black sky.  First thing I did was check my legs and arms to see if they were intact.  At this point, everything seemed like a bad dream.  My limbs were ok, but my head was hurting badly and my ears were ringing loudly.  Unable to hear and my vision a little blurry, I managed to shuffle near the Humvee I was in to see if everyone was ok.  What I saw next will stay with me forever.                            As I slowly approached the Humvee that was burning, I could see the silhouette of the driver.  He was being burned to a crisp in the Humvee.  Then I saw two other guys on the ground, fire all over their bodies.  One of the guys was split in two.  Each part burning separately.  At this point I looked around for help, but the other guys had taken protective postures to keep themselves safe.  Then I checked the other side of the Humvee.  One other guy was there, lying on is back.  He wasn’t on fire, just had a little smoke coming from his uniform.  Just before I got to the guy I passed out.                             When I woke up I was in a hospital bed.  I had bandages on my left leg and my head.  I noticed I had wires and tubes connected to my head and arms.  I couldn’t see very well, and my head was killing me.  I tried to look around to see if anyone was around I could talk to, but all I saw were injured soldiers in beds and no nurses or doctors.  At this point, I am really concerned.  I wanted to know where I was and what was wrong with me.  I guess all of this made me weak, because I passed out again.                          This time, when I woke up I had about 10 medical staff around me.  They all seemed to be speaking gibberish.  I couldn’t make out a word they were saying.  I could tell from their faces that something was wrong.  My anxiety shot through the roof.  I was trying to get up, and they were trying to hold me down.  Next thing I knew I was in “La La Land.”  I felt calm, easy, and tranquil.  The nurses instructed me to relax and they mentioned that everything was going to be ok.  I believed them.  I knew then they had given me something to relax.  I didn’t know what drug, but I knew I liked it.  My head wasn’t hurting anymore, the ringing in my ears was gone, and I felt peaceful.  I passed out again.                                     I woke up the next day.  My headache was back and so was the ringing in my ears.  There was an Army nurse near me.  I called her and asked her if I was ok.  The nurse informed me that I had a major head injury.  She said my skull was cracked in three places, that I had been unconscious for a week, and that my left leg had to be sewn up.  I was stunned.  I asked the nurse for some medication for my major headache.  She gave me a few pills and I dozed off.  This routine went on for a month.  Finally, I was flown back to the states and admitted to another Army hospital in Texas.                              After two months, my confusion, headaches, and blurry vision disappeared.  I learned that I suffered a traumatic brain injury (TBI).  The doctors told me my memory will never be the same again.  My short-term memory is all but gone, and I can barely remember anything about being stationed at Ft. Dix.  Many of the things I learned in high school are gone.  Also, my speech is a little slow.  The doctors told me I would have to learn how to talk again.                            I was quickly medically discharged.  I moved back to Bakersfield and moved in with my parents.  I quickly visited the local Veterans Affairs (VA) to work on my recovery.  Also, I applied for a service-connected claim for TBI.  I also participated in the Voc Rehab program at the VA.                                                                LIFE AFTER TRAUMATIC EVENT                                While I was in the voc rehab program, my counselor asked me if I thought I wanted to go to college.  He said that the government would pay my tuition and provide me with a monthly stipend for other expenses if I were interested.  I took him up on the offer.                                       I applied at San Joaquin Valley College (SJVC) and was accepted in the Aviation Maintenance Technology program.  I was good in auto mechanics in high school, I thought this would be an opportunity to get back to my roots.  Something I was familiar with.  Also, I knew I wanted no part in law enforcement.  Doing police work did not seem to work out well for me.                             It became apparent from the beginning that studying and preparing for college work was going to be difficult.  I had a very hard time trying to memorize information.  I couldn’t get organized.  It seemed like a million things were going through my head all at once and I could not focus on anything.  Everyday that I went to class seemed like my first.  I could never remember being there the day before.  Long story short, college did not work out for me.  My goal then was to work on my service-connected claim a little harder.  So I visited with my Veteran Service Officer (VSO).                                My VSO informed me that my service-connected claim was denied because no one could prove that I was injured in Iraq.  That made me very angry.  I was shocked at the same time.  He said he would appeal the decision, gather more evidence, and get back to me.  He said for me to be patient because the appeal would take about a year to be reviewed.  I left his office so angry I wanted to hurt someone.  I didn’t care who, anyone.                               I needed a job asap.  So I set out looking for jobs in Bakersfield.  Everything I read on Internet job sites said that businesses were hiring veterans, but when I applied for the jobs I was denied again, and again, and again.  I finally landed a job as a security guard at a local bank.  I didn’t really want the job, but I needed the job.  My supervisor at the time told me I got the job because of my military experience as an MP.  After a week on the job I was fired.  They let me go because I couldn’t remember the procedure to secure the bank vault.  I later got another job as a night time security guard working in a high rise office building.  That job didn’t last long either.  I couldn’t get to work on time, I forgot to do my rounds, I couldn’t remember to check identification of those entering the building, and I was told I scared the building tenants because of my vacant blank look.  I secured a few other jobs down the road and was fired from each of them.                                      I am currently unemployed, living with my parents, and looking for gainful employment.  Since my accident in Iraq things have been pretty rough. 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