Latest war renews ordeal for veterans.

Byline: Susan Palmer The Register-Guard

Every morning, Rick Lake reads the newspaper, following the details of the war in Iraq. Every evening, he catches the updates on the TV news.

But Lake, a 76-year-old Springfield resident, doesn't dwell on war. He follows up his morning read by checking out the comics - "Beetle Bailey," "Hagar the Horrible" and "Dennis the Menace" are his favorites. And once the evening news is over, he moves on to TV's gentler fare, "Touched by An Angel," for example.

He can only take so much of the fighting. "After a while, I have to have relief," he said.

The searing reality behind the televised images of bombs in the night sky or the rat-a-tat of small-weapons fire haunts him. Well over a half-century has passed since he landed on the beach at Normandy, France, in 1944, a teen-age soldier scrambling for the first time under withering enemy fire, but the memories won't let him go.

"Once you've seen the horror of war, the shock is tremendous," he said.

For many, the battles in Iraq have brought the horror back full force.

Area counselors have noticed an increase in the number of veterans seeking assistance for post-traumatic stress disorder symptoms. And for those already in counseling, much of the talk has turned to the current war, therapists say.

The regional Veterans Affairs office in Roseburg - which provides health care for veterans in Douglas, Lane, Coos, and Curry counties and California's Del Norte County - has seen a 25 percent increase in vets who need PTSD help, regional spokeswoman Sharon Carlson said.

There are 53,000 veterans in the region and experts estimate that one in 10 suffers from PTSD, said Gary Hunter, who supervises the VA's mental health programs.

War's psychological scarring sets veterans apart, leaving them isolated and suffering years after they come home from war, Hunter said. During World War I, it was called shell shock. After World War II, it became battle fatigue. By the end of the Vietnam War, psychologists labeled it a disorder.

You can't live in constant fear and witness the death and maiming of fellow soldiers without being affected, Hunter said.

Symptoms range from nightmares and combat flashbacks to drug and alcohol abuse and feelings of anger, depression and alienation, he said.

For veterans, the feelings are hard to put into words.

"You're alien to the people you know," Lake said. "They will never understand what happened. You yourself will never understand what happened."

Cliff Kaylor, a Vet Center counselor in Eugene and Vietnam veteran who has struggled with PTSD, describes it as a profound loneliness with fear a constant companion.

Kaylor has family and friends, does his work and is a functioning member of society, but when he goes out, say, to the Eugene Celebration, he's looking for the person in the crowd who's going to cause trouble.

"I'm basically afraid," he said. "It's hard for me to remember when I wasn't afraid."

Nonveterans who have experienced violent or traumatic events may also be affected by the war, said David Baldwin, a private therapist who specializes in stress and trauma counseling.

"It tends to stir up their traumas, which may be more dormant in the absence of the war," he said.

`Bunker down'

Many area veterans are also reacting to the war protests, therapists said.

"A Vietnam veteran who had a bad experience with protesters in the 1960s, he doesn't see the protesters now who have gone a long way toward steering clear of attacking the troops. He's flashing back to what he saw before," Kaylor said.

Many vets "bunker down," isolating themselves from others as emotions overwhelm them and old symptoms return, Hunter said.

Ron Havener of Springfield, a Marine who lost his leg in Vietnam, said he prefers watching the war news alone. Otherwise, it's just too hard to take, he said. And he actually has what his wife refers to as his bunker - a room with guns, a backpack full of survival gear and radio, all the things he needs to feel safe.

Havener suffered PTSD for more than a decade after he came back from the war, he said. He returned feeling guilty for having survived while close friends died. And he loathed war protesters after a woman threw blood on him when he got home in 1968, he said.

"Guilt and hate, that's what I was," he said. He linked up with like-minded bikers and lived a violent alcohol- and drug-filled life before realizing he was on a short road to nowhere, he said.

Things have settled down for him in the past five or six years, he said, thanks in part to a good marriage and the connections he's made as a member of the Springfield Veterans of Foreign Wars Post 3965.

Sitting beside Lake, another VFW member, in the post cantina, Havener gestured at other veterans catching a drink and conversation in the early evening. These men and women, the ones who have been there and who know, they're the ones who help him, he said.

"This is a brotherhood, and it's something you earn," Havener said. "Everyone in here had a hard time."

Support important

And vets right now are pulling together as the daily news brings up painful memories, he said. The worst thing they can do is to go off by themselves and be alone with their thoughts, he said.

"All you do is dwell on it. Bad things will come and get you because your mind gets weaker, not stronger," he said.

Kaylor said he's most worried about vets who aren't getting support from friends or therapists.

"They may have a shorter fuse. They may be angry with co-workers or family, and they'll think it's about a kid with a bad grade. But part of them is back in the combat zone," he said.

Kaylor and other counselors advise people to limit the amount of war news they take in and to talk through their feelings with friends and family.

Though drawn to the news himself, Kaylor doesn't keep the TV on nonstop the way he did during the Persian Gulf War. And though not much of a drinker, he's avoiding alcohol altogether. He also tries to give himself some quiet time every day, five minutes alone so he can pay attention to his own feelings and pray.

For Lake and Havener, the daily contact with their fellow vets gives the most comfort. Despite the suffering that war has brought them and their knowledge of what today's soldiers face, they support the effort to oust Saddam Hussein.

But Lake shudders each day as the number of dead soldiers and civilians rises. "We're paying a price that's horrendous, and I'm not talking about 75 damn billion dollars," he said.

CAPTION(S):

Ron Havener, a Marine who lost his leg in the Vietnam War, has to watch the war news alone. The Springfield man has struggled with post-traumatic stress disorder since the war.