Persian Gulf Veteran Sample Stressor Letter                               LIFE BEFORE MILITARY SERVICE                        Before I joined the Marine Corps, I was active in many things.  My family has a long history of military participation, so a lot of what I did when I was younger involved the military.  For instance, for as long as I can remember my family and I always went to local military Air Shows.  I was always interested in the tanks and armored vehicles that were present at the Air Shows.  A few shows had rifles, pistols, and grenade launchers that you could pick up and play with.  Those were my favorite shows.                         My family was heavy into visiting military installations too.  My dad was a disabled veteran, so we had access to all of the military installations.  We were close to El Toro Marine Corps base, and used to visit there all of the time.  My family used the commissary and PX a lot.  I was involved in a lot of on base clubs.  For instance, when I was 13 I joined the “Junior Marine Corps Club.”  I loved being part of the club.  I loved the camouflaged uniforms we were, I loved the structure, and I really liked the attention we got from “real Marines.”  Also, we were always busy doing weekend details around the base.  I secretly wished I could stay engaged in Junior Marine Corps stuff everyday rather than go to school.                       During high school I was active in band, debate team, and advanced science.  I played trombone in the school marching band.  That was a lot of fun, especially when we were tasked to participate in local parades.  I was active on the school debate as well.  My junior year we went to the state finals.  Out of 10 schools in the finals we came in eighth place.  I loved science in high school.  I competed in all the state competitions.  I never placed, but I had a lot of fun.                              Also, during my high school years I became a Junior Marine Corps mentor.  When I wasn’t doing the things in high school, the rest of my time and energy was spent with the Junior Marine Corps.  I trained your Corps members, planned events, coordinated events, and conducted speaking tours in the local area about the benefits of Junior Marine Corps training.                            When I graduated from high school I worked full time with the Junior Marine Corps Club.  I was given the position of Regional Coordinator.  I enjoyed working with the young Marines and promoting the program.  I was personally responsible for increasing membership from 125 members to 742.                            Then it hit me one day – join the Marine Corps.  At 19 years-old, I visited a Marine Corps recruiter and knew and discussed my options.  Like any good recruiter, he made the Marine Corps sound like heaven.  So I joined.                                                              LIFE DURING MILITARY SERVICE                               I completed basic training at MCRD San Diego, not far from my home.  A lot of the guys complained about the heat during training, but I was used to it.  That was the only thing I was used to.  Basic training was very hard.  The physical training was almost impossible.  I was recycled once because I couldn’t complete the runs in the allotted time established by the Marine Corps.  The “Crucible” was a major accomplishment for me.  No one thought I was going to make it.                             When I completed basic training and tech school, I was stationed at Twentynine Palms.  It was nice being close to home and stationed in an area of the country I was familiar with.  My job as a Water Safety Instructor was nice too.  I spent a lot of time scheduling classes, planning training routines, instructing recruits on water safety, and cleaning water safe equipment.  It was an easy job, one I enjoyed doing too.  It was a lot like the stuff I used to do for the Junior Marine Corps Club.  However, that all changed in October 1990.                               When Operation Desert Shield was started in August 1990, I didn’t think much of it.  I always knew in the back of my mind that the Marine Corps might send me off to fight, but I never thought it would happen.  Heck, I was a Water Safety Instructor.  I assumed I would be the last to ever go to war, especially in a part of the world that didn’t need my skill set.                           Because my job as a Water Safety Instructor was not “mission essential,” the Marine Corps thought I could be better utilized as an Infantryman.  So, on October 15, 1990, I was shipped to Kuwait.  About half of the base from Twentynine Palms was sent to the Middle East.  When we got there I was very nervous.  We were told by Commanders that we would storm Iraq any day.                             On January 16, 1991, we were given orders to head to the border of Iraq and Kuwait.  I was scared out of my mind.  We were briefed that the Iraqi Republican Guard militia was world class and that we were going to have one heck of a fight on our hands.                             January 17, 1991, my unit crossed the border into Iraq.  It was cold, dark, and windy.  It was eerily quiet as we marched North to Baghdad.  I think everyone was frightened.  I know I was.  My head was on a spindle.  I was super alert, looking for any sign of an attack.  The closer we got to Baghdad, the more nervous I became.  I was wondering if my training as a Water Safety Instructor had any relevance for what was about to happen.                          Around 9:20 A.M. all hell broke loose.  In the middle of a sand storm we marched North, fighting wind, sand, and the cold weather.  Air Force bombers went in before us and as we approached Baghdad we came across the aftermath of dead Iraqi troops and equipment.  I’ll never forget the smell of burned, rotting flesh.  A “trail of death,” as the media dubbed it, was in our path.  It seemed to go on for miles.  Mutilated bodies of dead Iraqi troops were everywhere.                          Just before entering the boundary of Baghdad we encountered small arms fire from the Republican Guard.  There must have been about 50-75 Iraqi snipers in buildings all around us.  Rounds were riquocheting off our vehicles.  My unit was given orders to sweep a few nearby buildings.  We had to kick down the doors and capture who ever was in the building.  That was a terrifying experience.  You never knew who or what was waiting for you behind those doors.                         I remember when we kicked down one door a family was there sitting on the floor around the dead body of an Iraqi soldier.  The family was yelling and screaming.  Partly from fear that we were going to harm them and partly from grief over a loved one.  As I looked at the soldier they were crying over, I was shocked to see that the guy was mutilated.  His face was almost unrecognizable.  After marshalling the family to a nearby plaza, we proceeded to check other buildings.  I was glad we did not see anymore people.                        On January 30, 1991, I was directed to help a small detail of guys pick up body parts around Baghdad.  We had to find them, identify the part, label it and place it in bags.  It was a disgusting detail.  I found blown up fingers, arms, legs, and head fragments.  I almost throw-up several times as I gathered the body parts.  Thank goodness it was all enemy body parts I found.                            Many nights after seeing body parts and decomposed bodies I started having intense nightmares about war.  I would wake up in the middle of the night sweating profusely.  I think I even screamed out loud a couple of times.  I hoped desperately that no one heard me.  Also, I started having panic attacks as I entered rooms with doors.  In my mind I was having flashbacks about kicking in doors in Baghdad.  For some reason, I was really jumpy to.  Loud noises scared the crap out of me.                             When I got back to the states I was hoping my nightmares, panic attacks, and jumpiness would go away, but it didn’t.  I thought about visiting the unit Chaplain or the mental health department at Twentynine Palms to see if they could help me, but I was reluctant.  I didn’t want anyone to think I wasn’t a tough, mentally strong Marine.                               After the Persian Gulf War I spent another 8 years in the Marine Corps.  I decided to give the civilian world a try.  The economy was doing well, I was well trained by the Marine Corps, and I thought it would be better to seek out help for my issues in the civilian world.  So, I decided to leave the Marine Corps.                                                      LIFE AFTER MILITARY SERVICE                               Leaving the Marine Corps was the biggest mistake of my life.  I moved to Los Angeles, California after I left the Corps.  My plan was to attend UCLA, get a degree in Business Administration, and open a business.  Those planes were quickly dashed when it became apparent that the Montgomery G.I. Bill would not cover expenses.                           After living on unemployment insurance and shaking up with my girlfriend to make ends meet, I finally landed a job working as a waiter in a high end restaurant in Diamond Bar.  I was told I could easily make $60K - $70K per year waiting tables.  That didn’t work out either.                         The customers treated you like crap, the managers were manipulative liars, and the money was not as good as I was told.  Also, my panic attacks were more frequent and they would get the best of me.  I also felt vulnerable working in an environment where it was hard to watch my back.  I was fired after four months on the job.                                                My girlfriend was very angry.  She was the breadwinner, and I was struggling to do my part in our financial partnership.  She started complaining about my nightmares and fidgety impairment in bed.  She would call me paranoid every chance she got.  Luckily for me she was committed to making things work between us.                        I landed another job working as a hot shot runner.  I thought the job would be easy and I would have a little more control about my surroundings.  I was wrong again.  When I delivered packages to local businesses the intensity of my panic attacks were too much to handle.  There were several occasions when I was completely out of breathe.  When I entered businesses I would lose it.  I delivered a package to a local business on Figueroa Street one day and almost passed out.  The day was bleak and overcast just like Iraq, and the building looked a lot like the buildings in Baghdad.  I had major flashbacks, I was shaking, sweating, and I couldn’t breathe.  I ran to my car and went home.  That night I tried to explain to my girlfriend what happened, but she didn’t want to hear me out.  She was furious.  When I went to work the next day my boss gave me my last check and told me not to come back.                                           By now I am wondering if I was going crazy.  I didn’t have any money, no health insurance, no job, and no prospects.  I started to lose a lot of weight.  I just wasn’t hungry anymore.                             With only $275 in my bank account I bought a lawnmower and a DBA.  I opened up my own landscaping business.  I did not want to depend on others for my money, and I wanted to be able to control situations in the hope that I could eliminate my panic attacks.  Getting business was very difficult, but I persevered.  After six months of banging on doors I finally had enough money to hold up my end of the financial agreement with my girlfriend.  My nightmares decreased, my panic attacks decreased, my appetite was back, and I thought I was on the road to recovery.  I was wrong again.                                 On September 11, 2001, America was attacked.  The bombing of the World Trade Center and the Pentagon brought everything back again.  I started having really bad dreams, I couldn’t sleep at night, I lost my appetite again, and it was very difficult for me to knock on my customers doors.  I finally went to see a shrink.  The guy said I had full blown posttraumatic stress disorder.  He told me to visit the VA so I could get medication for my symptoms.                            After visiting the VA I was assigned a doctor who prescribed medication to me.  I was put in group therapy too.  I joined the local Disabled American Veterans association too.  DAV instructed me to file a claim for PTSD.  I was assigned a Veterans Service Officer who helped me fill out the paperwork.  I am waiting to get the results of my claim. 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