A Traumatized Human Existance

ATHE-A Tramatic Human Existence

In the two-story home of sixteen Richard Donley entered the breezeway. 

He found a rocking chair to sit in while he read his book, "Hardy Boys,

The Deep Earth."

His brother, Ronald was leaning on the upstairs railing telling him about his

new girlfriend. Richard could hardly hear him because the outside awning was

blowing and hitting the windowpane hard. In the meantime, father was coming

down the windy staircase in the kitchen in the next room dragging his bum

foot. Father entered the doorway and Richard jumped at the noise and his presence.

"What are you doing, boy?" his father yelled.

"I am reading,"I responded softly.

"You have not been following the rules of the household," he said.

"I am forced to kick you out of the house," he hollered, "get your things and get out."

Mother entered the room, "What is going on here, Henry?"

"Richard doesn't follow the rules so he must leave," father replied.

"He is your son, you can't do this," mother argued.

"Shut up woman, I will do what I please," he said.

I preceded upstairs to my room followed by my brother.  I look

for my duffel bag and put my pillow and a lightweight blanket in it. I 

prepare for what can happen on the street like bandaids and neosporin. I

put in my toletries, clothing, books, and a jacket.  

"What are you going to do?" Ronald asked.

"I am going to walk next to the Railroad Tracks to the end of town where

the bums go," I answered.

"Is that safe?" he cried.

"I don't know but I will find out," I replied.

Mother comes in the room and hands me some money. "I will find you and 

bring you regular money," she promised.

I hug my Mom with a thank you.  I grab my brother's arm and I shake hands.

I say, "Goodbye."  

I grab my bag, go down the stairs, open the front door, step onto the porch,

and look around wondering if I'll see this place again. Down the steps I go

on to the Railroad Tracks.

I walk and walk along the tracks for quite some time.

Finally,  I reach my destination.  It looks like a camp.  Homemade tents

made out of bankets, ropes, and thin metal poles.  There is a vehicle with broken

windows and rundown exterior.  Lots of small trees and long grass occupied

the setting.

A man with dingy gray hair, overalls, worn faded boots points his finger at me.

His nails were long, coarse and dirty.

"What are you doing here, Kid?" He said.

"I need a place to sleep,"I pleaded.

"Go home, this is no place for you," he said patiently.

"I was kicked out of my home by my father," I explained.

"Why were you kicked out?" He asked.

"I would not go to church three times a week," I said.

"Why not?" He inquired.

"The sermons were God fearing and I didn't believe." I replied.

"Son, my name is Happy.  It is good to make your acquaintance," he said.

"You can sleep in the bush and find a place to take a leak plus.

"Thank you so much, Sir."I got settled in the bush, looked up at the moon.

I was thankful and exhausted.

I walked all around the small city.  I found the Laudra-mat and the YMCA to take my showers.

I missed my family so I visited my sister, Jill.  She invited me to eat lunch.  I couldn't

even remember my last meal.  She had brought snacks and gave me a gallon thermos of water.

Jill said, "I have to tell you that our father has threated the family that no one can

help you or he will tell the preacher and we will be banned from the church."

"That is downright pathetic," I cried.

"You can come anytime and I will help you as much as I can," sympathized Jill.

I hugged her and thanked her.

A couple weeks had gone by and mother drove down the streets looking for me.

She was doing it for the third time when she spotted me in front of the Laundra-mat.

She parked her car near me.  I motioned her to go to the back.  Once there I

explained that she cannot be seen with me because there was consequences.

Mom hugged him half to death.  

"Are you alright? " she asked.

"As well as can be expected," I replied.

"You could go to church and come home," Mom advised, "your father

didn't think you would last this long."

"I will not expose myself to the church again," I informed her,

"I have converted myself to being an atheist."

Mother gasped with her jaw dropping.  She was speechless.

She changed the subject quickly. She is selling crepe roses and making bread 

to raise money for my escapade out on the street, I had heard her say to a

person at the Laundra-mat.

"Bye, Mom, I appreciate all that you do!"

I went to the market to buy soap, a wash cloth and towel.  Then, I

went to the YMCA to shower.  Oh, how I appreciate running

hot water.

I am settled in at the bum camp.  I play the guitar almost

every evening.  I sing and play the Beatles and everyone

loves "Blowin In The Wind," by Peter, Paul and Mary.  Some

sing along and it surprises me that they know all the words.

Happy and I have become pals.  We get into intelligent

conversations about politics and economics. When I have extra money,

I buy him sandwiches he likes.

The weather is getting colder so Jill lets me stay the

night quite frequently.

I passed the Market and they were hiring.  I checked myself

out looking in a large puddle of water to see if I could

pass a hire interview  I got my comb out of my pocket to comb my hair

and smiled to make sure I could exude a good personality for the

job.   I was desparate inside but confident on the

outside. I walked in and asked for the manager.  He

came out and invited me into his office.  He asked me

for past work experience.  I lied and told him I worked a couple

years at my grandpa's store in California. He asked when

I could start.  He hired me for the next day.  The manager

informed me he would train me for a week. I learned quickly

so I could be an asset to the Market. I felt the best I

had felt for weeks.

The problem I had was that the bum camp is far from the

Market, but I had an idea. Walking along the track, many

days ago I had spotted a junk yard with a broken down 26" bike.  

I stopped in the place and asked how much was the bike for sale?

"Young man, if you can fix the bike, it's yours," Clyde said.

I took the bike to the camp.  Happy had some tools I probably could use.  

It was just a chain problem which took me 15 minutes to fix.

I went back to see Clyde. "The bike needed just the chain fixed," I 

said, "I would be glad to pay you."

"Oh, no, you deserve to have the bike," Clyde said, "Stay right there,

I'll be right back."

Clyde returned with steel wool, paint brush and a can of red paint.

I was overwelmed with his generosity and thanked him many times.

I spent the evening painting the bike.  I am a perfectionist,

so it turned out amazing. I was able to ride the bike to my

first day of work. I loved the work and the way I was treated.

I rode the bike the long haul to the camp. I entered the camp

and Jim, the Viet Nam vetern stood up. He had his jungle

knife which he sharpened everyday. I hesitated.

"What are you doing here," he shouted, "you don't belong

here, get out of here, Kid!"

Happy wasn't around to protect me so I needed to handle this

myself.

"Lieutenant Jim, we all belong here. The common denominator is

misery and injustice. Do you like lemon bars?," I expressed.

"What does that have to do with anything?" he angrily replied.

"I just so happen to have a piece of a lemon bar to give to you,"

I said. I removed a lemon bar from the sack I was carrying and gave 

it to him.

Jim was astonished because lemon was his favorite flavor (What Luck).

After that, Jim never gave me any grief.

I was so happy to get my first paycheck at work. I went right down to the

shoe shop to get me a couple pairs of shoes. Oh, my god to feel a

well constructed shoe over my foot was heaven.  My shoes were

peeling on the sole and the top had holes. It just proved how much I

was walking.

I had been on the street for almost two years.  My vision is 

joining the army.  I will be eighteen years old. The months went by

for me to be eligible for the army.  In the meanwhile, I did my laundry, 

took showers, visited Jill, worked at the Market, spent time with the

bum camp and entertained with my voice and guitar. Since I worked, I

no longer needed help with money. I would sometimes stay at a

boarding house, especially if it was cold.

I went to the recruiting office to apply and join the army. Because of the

ongoing war in Southeast Asia, I was accepted. The basic combat training 

was 10 weeks in Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri. I would leave on Greyhound 

in two weeks.

The day finally arrived for the ten hour trip to Fort Leonard Wood.  The bus

was full. Before the trip, I told my sister, Jill, thatI was joining the army.

"I am proud to be your sister," she said. 

"Please tell Mom, I said.

The army was not easy but with what I have gone through, I thrived.

I was assigned a barracks in the flatland. A soldier handed me boots

which I was so thrilled.  Then, the green uniform and cap. The first

couple days we marched around what I called the campus.  Everything

had to be perfect, folded, marked, wrinkle fee, tidy and spic and

span. After several days, we were administered our rifles. 

In the army everything is organized in phases.  Gear issues and

fitness testing.  Basic weapon skills, rifle marksmanship,

weapons, teamwork and soldier fundamentals were stressed.

Training started at 4:30 am. The maneuvers were very strenuous

and difficult.  A stop clock was used for timing.  Everyone

must be in excellent physical condition to succeed. Ten

weeks can be brutal for some. Practicing firing an automatic

weapon takes skill. I performed at the best of my ability.

A Sergeant Major approached me,"Donley." 

I saluted, "Yes,Sir."

"You are to report to the Captain, stat."

I wondered what happened.

The Captain was located in the front barracks. The major

escorted me to his office.

I saluted.  "Donley reported as requested, Sir."

"You have been promoted on behalf of your excellent

service to your Staff Sergeant. Congratulations, you are our 

youngest Staff Sergeant. The major will discuss your duties," he said.

I was in deep shock over this recomendation.

My duties were a key leadership role.  I was to supervise

and mentor junior enlisted soldiers, ensure their training and

readiness.  I would assist in planning missions.

I received a letter from my Jill and wrote back. It meant everything 

to me. I told her I was going to war in Vietnam. She wrote me back

to tell me she was so sorry for the fact that I was

robbed of my childhood. I cried.  Someone came into the

barracks and I hurriedly grabbed my handkerchief.

He looked at me. 

"I have something in my eye,"I said.

Saturday, my barracks and I took off for Vietnam. I packed up my

belongings and gear. We flew on PanAm Airlines to Clark Air

Base in the Philippines. I was somewhat scared to be

flying into another country for the first time.

At Clark Air Base, I stayed with a small group for a day while 

we brushed up on our weapon skills.

The helicopter flying to Viet Nam left at 5 am. There were about

20 of us. The Lieutenant was in charge.  Once we were

in the air, he voiced instructions.

"Donley, you have the highest mark to be our sniper in

which you will plan your target,"he said. "Stevens, Johnson and

Markley, you will distribute the gear. Adams and TAnner will take 

care of the water and food. The rest of  you will position yourself

in war. Make sure you have your equipment in order to

fight effectively. When we land we will hustle off the

air craft.  Then, run for the jungle to set up camp."

The run was successful with no incident.

Da Nang, with marble mountains, peaks and caves, was ideal to

hide for soldiers. At the very top of the mountain area, towering

hardwood trees stretching a 100 ft high with their

branches, formed a patchy green ceiling. Sunlight snuke

through in golden beams, lighting up floating mist and

humidity.

I used my scope on my rifle to locate my target.  The

Lieutenant gave me the man's description. I shoot. Bulls eye!

My small double tripod set up real nice.  I had to 

lay down on the dirt. The sniper gun can shoot 37 miles.

The ground is uneven and damp with a lot of fallen leaves, 

moss and tangled roots, It feels somewhat muddy. 

The Lieutenant is pleased. I have targeted 30 people and

haven't missed a target.  I don't feel good. My brain remembers

times spent long ago in church. Thou Shall Not Kill.

I was surprised the North Vietnamese had not located our 

whereabouts. We should move, so I alerted the Leiutenant.

We completed the breakdown of camp. All of a sudden, we were 

ambushed by the Viet Cong. We held our ground but 10 were killed.  

We flew out the dead and carried on with the mission. I targeted

one more enemy and then we moved to Pleiku.

We set up camp again at Pleiku.  the Lieutenant phoned Clark to 

report our casualties. The Major said they needed a day to get more 

soldiers. I felt we were sitting ducks. I told the Lieutenant

that we needed to find a dense green enviroment to

hide our remaining 10 men.  It was a cliff with rocks and

surrounding jungle with layers of plants. 

With our camp established, it was back to search and destroy.

Everyone's spirits were down, but when I got all 15 targets, 

everyone was cheering.

The helicopter brought 20 more men to increase the squad.

Afterwards, we moved to closer to Saigon.  It was "business as 

usual", but we needed to increase our watch crew as the enemy was

vigilant.

The outskirts of Saigon was a little different

terrain.  Giant plants with long twisting vines

that were thick looping from tree to tree like

ropes. Camp was done like all the camps.

The soldiers would kid around about me "Pot shot,

Rich they called me.  I got thirty more targets.

I commended the Lieutenant for his perfect

calculations. 

The Viet Cong did not have the technology to figure

the assasinations of their people.  Thou Shall Not

Kill is what I faced everyday. I targeted 24 more people.

I completed four years without leave, so I was discharged,

"with honors," or so the letter said.  

"Where am I supposed to go," I asked myself.

Jill sent me letter after a wrote her I was coming home.

She wante me to come and live with her until I find a place. 

I cried and cried and cried.  My shirt was wet and I but

didn't care. I went back to Bird City to be with my sister.

It wasn't long when I married my early high school

sweetheart, a preacher's daughter. I went to

college and earned three degrees with the G.I bill. I bought 

a house and had two boys.

Several years later, my wife met a man that worked with her. 

She met with the man twice in a public place, but I was unable 

to cope with that. I divorced her.

My father had died so I went and lived with my mother.

I was in therapy for veterans twice a week with therapists 

Mary and Kelly, who helped me stay sane. 

I had a revolver at my bedside threating to blow my brains out.  

I had PTSD, Severe depression, and some other "diagnosis". 

The agony of my existence overwelms me the majority of my time.

My mother lived several years. She would cook, played the organ

while I played on the guitar and we got along pretty well. Then,

I was with her in her bedroom when she passed away. I could

not deal with the fact I was alone with her. It haunts me to no

end. Prior to this, she told me she stopped going to church.

Mom appointed me as the Executor of her Estate.  The whole

family was outraged.  I got hate emails from all of them.

I took care of the Estate in a professional manner and

didn't hear from them again. I asked myself what did I ever

do to them?

At least, Jill had a daughter seven years younger than me.

Throughout all of thoses years of strife and war, she remained

in contact. Even when she had moved from town and married, she

was always there for me.  We would talk for hours on the

phone.  Before my illness, we played competive games

of tennis, ping pong, cards and chess.  She would visit and

cook for me,and watch our favorite shows on TV. She would

come and stay with me weeks at a time. She helped me in more 

ways then anyone could imagine. When I talked about blowing

my brains out, she would be matter of fact and tell me

I couldn't do that because it would cause a lot of blood

and a person would end up finding me. A nightmare for the

rest of their life.  Many times we had that same conversation.

She would sleep at night in the recliner next to my futon in the

living room. I was afraid. Thou Shall Not Kill.  I woke up

several times in the night wet with perspiration, panting

and yelling. She would calm me and tell me, I was home and everything

was alright. She did this the majority of nights, at times I

woud stay up all night to avoid the dreams. She would encourage

an extra visit to see Mary or Kelly.  Thank goodness for them.

She would use sidetrack techniques like chess on the phone,

movies, picture albums and good conversation. She played "Never Alone,"

by Jim Brickman, sung by Hilary Scott, quite frequently to sooth my

mind and other instumental music on her ipod.

I showed signs of fear of dying.  Everytime my niece left, I hugged

her tight, telling her this was the last time I would see her. I no 

longer walked her to her car.  This routine happened for six years.

She got a call that I was in the hospitl.  She went to the hospital

everyday and sat with me for a week.  My sons were with me so 

I was going home to die. My elder son talked to me about Jesus,

my Savior and about forgiveness. The youngest son accompanied me

home and stayed with me.

The niece got a phone call that Richard Donley had passed.

At last he is at peace. The niece likes to visilize him playing

his passion on the tennis court with her.