Healing Combat Trauma

Writing Workshop Planned on "Trauma, Art & Writing" for June, 2009

Plan ahead for this writing workshop, June 15-26, 2009:

Sponsored by the William Joiner Center for the Study of War and Social Consequences and the Creative Writing Program of the University of Massachusetts Boston.

This workshop - open to writers of fiction and nonfiction, poetry, playwriting and translation - involves one or two weeks of working sessions and individual consultations with distinguished writers. The faculty includes Vietnam veterans and others whose lives have been altered by the experience of war, but applicants with diverse interests and backgrounds are encouraged to apply.

Visiting writers will join the teaching staff in a series of readings, seminars, and panel discussions. Special events held at UMass Boston and at other Boston locations will be open to both workshop students and the general public. This year's faculty reading series schedule will be posted.

Editor's note: Additional information about the writing workshop, including faculty bios, course schedule, accommodations, and application (as well as other materials) are linked here.

An Unprecedented Aesthetic Triumph: A War Poet (Jarrell) on a Combat Journalist (Pyle)

Randall Jarrell is famous to many (okay, I'll say it, so you won't have to) ex-English literature majors, and other fans of poetry, including war poetry.  His poem, "The Death of the Ball Turret Gunner," is one of the more famous war poems around.  What I didn't realize until I read more about Ernie Pyle was that Randall Jarrell made one of the more profound quotes about why Ernie Pyle's contribution as a journalist in wartime was so important.  He wrote:

"We felt most the moral qualities of [Ernie Pyle's] work and life; but we could not help realizing that his work was, in our time, an unprecedented aesthetic triumph: because of it most of the people of a country felt, in the fullest moral and emotional sense, something that had never happened to them, that they could never have imagined without it -- a war."

Never read Jarrell's famous poem?  Here's your chance, then: It's pretty short and to the point in its ability to communicate, elliptically, the experience of war on the individual:

 

From my mother's sleep I fell into the State,
And I hunched in its belly till my wet fur froze.
Six miles from earth, loosed from the dream of life,
I woke to black flak and the nightmare fighters.
When I died they washed me out of the turret with a hose.

The two men -- one a poet, who had served briefly in the military, the other a journalist who had embedded at length with the troops, and considered himself one of them -- both served to "amplify" the experience of serving in combat for those to those who stayed at home.  Interestingly, for our purposes on this blog, no one is clear whether Jarrell's "accidental" death at 51 (he was hit by a car while walking) was actually accidental, or in fact a successful suicide attempt.  He had struggled with mental illness (depression) before his untimely death. 

As for Pyle, he died in combat, with the troops he loved and whose individual experience he communicated so successfully to the folks at home.  According to Pyle's obituary in the New York Times, Eleanor Roosevelt herself wrote of Pyle, "I have read everything he has sent from overseas," and, the obituary states, "recommended his writings to all Americans."

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Just because I can't get enough lately of this journalist with the compassion for those he encountered in combat, I have to add one more quote from his (excellent) obituary.  How I wish we had someone like this today.  See how very much his point of view is needed among veterans today:

Said General Mark W. Clark, from Fifteenth Army General HQ in Europe:

 

"A great soldier correspondent is dead, perhaps the greatest of this war. I refer to Ernie Pyle, who marched with my troops through Italy, took their part and championed their cause both here and at home.

 

"His reporting was always constructive. He was "Ernie" to privates and generals alike. He spoke the GI's language and made it a part of the everlasting lore of our country. He was a humble man and in his humility lay his greatness.

 

"He will be missed by all of us fighting with the Fifteenth Army Group. There could have been only one Ernie Pyle. May God bless his memory. He helped our soldiers to victory."

We Made History Together: The Oral and Written Histories of Combat Veterans

Combat veterans - where did your memories go?  Not as in, "have you lost your memories?" but more to the effect of, "how are you saving them or transmitting them, for posterity?"

This marvelous photograph was taken by photographer Jeremy Hogan, and is used with permission. Hogan wrote the "Poem for My Father" which we blogged about earlier, and in his free time, he's helping to document the history of his father's squadron in Vietnam.  He says about this photo, taken over Memorial Day weekend, that the subject is, "Ron Klus, who served with my dad at Quan Loi, and received a Distinguished Flying Cross with an Oak Leaf Cluster. Unfortunately, Klus died due to issues related to his PTSD and now the VA is now denying his widow death benefits."

Recently, I've been privileged to receive several veteran's memoirs, bound up in book form -- one is a work in progress, the other already published.  I know that Jeremy is working with at least one of the guys from his dad's old squadron (13th Signal Battalion, part of the 1st Cavalry Division Airmobile), a combat photographer who did multiple tours of Vietnam, on cataloging his old photos, and creating some sort of archive for posterity.  That photographer says he's been interviewed as well, and is the subject of an upcoming article in a military magazine, but admits that dredging up the memories has been extraordinarily painful, because all those memories just come rushing back, from where they've been suppressed all these years.  That situation is challenging enough -- but what of others, who will die before they set anything down on paper, or on tape, about what they went through?  Those memories, painful and otherwise, which capture who the person was, will forever be lost to time. Unless...they're preserved some kind of way.

We've written on this blog before about the exceptional StoryCorps project -- click here for that link -- but what else is there out there, that archives veterans' recorded stories of their adventures and misadventures in combat?  (By recorded, we mean "set down" -- which could be on paper, digitally, or taped.)  One thing I've run across -- and please let us know if you know of other things like this, that are national in scope, not just regional or local -- is the "Veterans History Project," a project of the "American Folklife Center" at the Library of Congress, linked here. 

To participate in the project takes a few easy steps (their words, not mine), and seems pretty straightforward.  You register for the project, print the project field kit, prepare f the interview, conduct the interview, and send the resulting work product to the collection at the Library of Congress (of course keeping at least one copy for yourself).  Students and teachers can make this an educational project for school credit, -- that information is linked here -- but veterans themselves should think about getting involved. There's even a very cool place on the site where you can search for histories by other people who've participated -- for all you know, you might find a wartime buddy via that search engine, which is linked here.

I recently shared a quick conversation and a hug with longtime Friend of Veterans Maxine Hong Kingston, and asked her my one burning question, which was how long it took veterans before they were willing to talk about their experiences.  She said, "20 years."  I'm hopeful it doesn't always take that long -- or won't take that long, for the current crop of veterans -- but when you read some individual's war experiences you can see exactly why that would be. 

Current veterans like Tony Neff, author of the short autobiographical piece on his injury and convalescence, called "All I Want Is What I Deserve," which was published on this blog a few months ago, definitely took the plunge and jumped right in -- good for him. (His story is linked, here.)  I just have the feeling the current group of vets, thanks to the Internet and technology, etc., and their general comfort level with same, is going to break through all previous barriers more quickly with getting their stories told and out there, for the general public and to memorialize what they went through. In fact, it will seem unusual for them not to! 

But for everyone else, from previous wars, it's gonna take a little more coaxing and cajoling. So what of it -- is it time to start getting involved, and sharing with the world what only you know and experienced?  It might even help your loved ones understand you a little bit better -- and in the process, perhaps help you to understand and forgive yourself a little more, too.  Can you hear me cheering you on from the sidelines?  That's good -- because that would be the point :-)

Lost in a Dark Wood - Did Dante Understand Veterans' Suffering?

Maybe it's just an excuse to show this amazing Gustav Dore illustration of Dante in the "dark wood" mentioned below, but I think not.

Listening to veteran's stories lately about their lives, I can't help but think of the opening lines of the Inferno, the first book in Dante's Divine Comedy (hey, what's an ex-literature major to do?  That degree has to count for something :-):

Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita
mi ritrovai per una selva oscura,

Midway in the journey of our life
I found myself in a dark wood...

Can he relate?  Let's take a look at some of the rest of the story, using none other than the reliably haphazard Wikipedia -- sometimes sketchy, sometimes very good -- as our source:

"...the mention of suicide is made in Canto I of Purgatorio with "This man has not yet seen his last evening; But, through his madness, was so close to it, That there was hardly time to turn about" implying that when Virgil came to him he was on the verge of suicide or morally passing the point of no return), assailed by beasts (a lion, a leopard and a she-wolf) allegorical depictions of temptations towards sin) he cannot evade, and unable to find the "straight way" (diritta via) to salvation (symbolized by the sun behind the mountain). Conscious that he is ruining himself, that he is falling into a "deep place" (basso loco) where the sun is silent ('l sol tace), Dante is at last rescued by Virgil, and the two of them begin their journey to the underworld. ... Dante passes through the gate of hell, on which is inscribed the famous phrase "Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate", or "Abandon all hope, ye who enter here."

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Ehhh.  Well, we'll skip further analyzing the book, because for one thing it's large -- one of the original "three part series": hell, purgatory and heaven each get their own book -- and for another thing, we last read it quite a few years ago, and then probably only under duress (had to satisfy those honors requirements).

But even a brief look at just that passage above introduces quite a lot of themes -- and feelings -- common to veterans who are still struggling with what they experienced and took part in, even decades ago.  If nothing else -- and you don't have to skip ahead to see how the book turns out -- I think it's a nice reminder that across the centuries, across various languages, across literature -- other people can and have related to the pain that veterans feel in their isolation, alienation, need for solitude, feelings of being assailed by visions real and imaginary, and struggling to even hold on, against the madness, and against losing their way. 

The Gustav Dore illustration, from the mid-1800s, is a "wonderful" depiction of Dante lost and alone in the dark wood, on the run from the horrible nightmares or the demons that pursued him, whether from without or within.  For some reason, I think that's something veterans can relate to -- particularly the ones who are struggling with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). It may not be as satisfying as a cure, but sometimes it's nice just to be acknowledged, have your reality externally validated, or realize that others can relate.  Strangely, across the centuries, it seems like Dante actually can, to a degree.  We hope that's on some level comforting.

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And just because I can't resist throwing in an encouraging quote in at the end of all the bleakness, how about this one, allegedly from Admiral Chester W. Nimitz, for anyone who's ever felt himself chased through the dark wood: "Grant me the courage not to give up, even when I think it is hopeless."

Ambrose Bierce - Cynic, Soldier, Journalist (and Early TBI / PTSD Sufferer)

You may already know who Ambrose Bierce is -- contemporary of Mark Twain -- American "humorist" -- but with the most dark and biting, bitter humor around.  (So bitter, in fact, that in his later life, he was known as "Bitter Bierce."  He's famous for some short stories, including the inimitable "Incident at Owl Creek Bridge," which occasionally salvages an otherwise-deadly literature anthology for high school and college students, and also the Devil's Dictionary, which is truly just one of a kind, from which come many of the best "definitions" I've ever seen, about the out and out hypocrisy of language and typically revisionist history, written by the victors.  In fact, though they were rivals, the sentiments behind Mark Twain's famous "War Prayer" -- "Oh, dearest God in the heavens, smite down the other side, mainly because they're not US" (I'm paraphrasing) -- fit right in with Bierce.  While literature types make much of Bierce's cynicism -- he's been relegated to the "humor" side of the aisle, in theory, because of it -- the reality is, he was a soldier who saw many battles, and saw some truly horrible things, in the course of his serving in the Civil War.  Things that jump right out of the pages of his writing, and underscore realities from Vietnam -- like the impetus behind fragging -- and the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan -- including what must have been a "traumatic brain injury" or "TBI" -- when he was shot in the head with a musket in one of the battles in which he participated.

If you fast-forward to the 1980s, Bierce's eventual disappearance in Mexico -- he had gone there to fight -- is chronicled in the fictional movie treatment, "Old Gringo," starring the eclectic cast of (erm) Jane Fonda, Jimmy Smits, and Gregory Peck, as Bierce (he's the "Old Gringo" of the title.)  (The movie was based on a novel by Carlos Fuentes, called The Old Gringo.) Ironically, Bierce's decision to go to Mexico and fight in yet another war seems quite reminiscent of combat veterans today, who agitate on the home front for the battle-fueled adrenaline they can't help missing when they're back.  If you haven't taken the opportunity to acquaint yourself with Bierce's dark humor and realistic depictions of war (as a combatant), do yourself that favor.  And in the meantime, I'll leave you with one of the funnier quotes I've seen in a while, courtesy of the one and only Ambrose Bierce -- "War is God's way of teaching Americans geography."

Editor's Note: Thanks to Chris Lombardi for reminding me this week of the singular, terrible beauty of Bierce, and encouraging me to read his devastating battle account -- "What I Saw of Shiloh" -- which concludes with the highly memorable line about the life that he "should have thrown away, at Shiloh."  Yikes.  He gets it.