[RascalPuff]

All of the following list of stressors are on file with the Bureau of Veterans Affairs.
I am twice diagnosed with severe childhood and military related PTSD.

Contingent nightmares and intrusive waking thoughts accompany all of the following incidents.

Two hurricanes, one in the Med, in 1960, and one in the North Atlantic in March, ‘62.

Our 25,000 ton ammunition ship (USS Great Sitkin AE-17 - named after a volcano in the Aleutian Chain), lost power in the middle of the 2nd day of the hurricane of ‘62. We lost forward way for about a minute, exposed our port beam to the oncoming weather and rolled over on our starboard side - approaching 90o for about a minute - before we regained power and recovered before rolling completely over.
In the last two days of the three day (Atlantic) hurricane, one man was pleading for someone to shoot him. Another comrade was threatening to kill himself with a knife. I was telling jokes while I was terrified. As a (three year seasoned) coxswain I had trained myself to endure bad weather (in small craft) while remaining stoic about the sometimes frightening - passenger panicking - weather. Composure under stress was expected of me, and fear is contagious. An undetermined number of men were sedated and some officers did not leave their quarters during this particularly bad, category five, storm (steady 120 foot swelling breakers with rogue 140 footers). We were in formation with several other navy ships, including the USS Canisteo, which lost two enlisted men swept over the side and a helicopter & crew that attempted to recover them.
I did not eat or sleep during this second hurricane in the North Atlantic. I passively surrendered to what I considered to be the imminent perishing of the ship and crew. This, and comforting others, made it easier for me to endure without panicking.
Although there is written (claim submitted) testimony from my shipmates (Roger Branch transferred about 9/’61, and consequently did not witness the second - and by far the worst - hurricane, of March ‘62), there is no report of these events in my *service medical record (*SMR).
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Thanksgiving Day of ‘61. St. Tropez, France.
Contrary to the SMR report regarding this incident - that I ‘accepted a ride’ from four ‘French civilians’ in a car - I was forcibly thrown into that vehicle, after they offered me a ride and I declined. They harshly identified themselves as American hating Communists. Neither was I ‘thrown from’ it, but rather escaped the vehicle by voluntarily throwing myself out of it; when it was traveling at about 35 mph. I somersaulted out and my lower back hit the ground first before I continued rolling several times from off the side of the road and into a ditch. They turned around to come back and get me but it was dark and I had concealed myself in underbrush, anticipating that they might return. Because I escaped the vehicle, I had never considered this an ‘abduction’, until so advised by Vets Administration PTSD counselors.
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Hang Fire On A Hot Gun
We were at GQ stations and had been firing at aircraft towed targets (‘sleeves’ and radio controlled drones) all morning and afternoon. The artillery piece was excessively overheated. A dud (unfired/dud) round of live artillery ammo was consequently cooking off, inside the overheated breach. The warhead, under these circumstances, 'cooks off'; explodes, before the propellant charge does. The ignited warhead does not leave the muzzle and explode at a distance; it explodes inside the breach; transforming the entire artillery piece into high explosive (HE - super sonic) fragmentation. This circumstance also presents a secondary fire and explosion hazard.
Gun Captain, 2nd Div Petty Officer Branch asked for a volunteer and winked at me. As 1st Loader, I had homed the round and felt it my duty to unseat it. I volunteered. The Gun station was temporarily evacuated of its crew, which was moved to the outside of the splinter shield surrounding the hazarded mount, while through a head set, gun captain Branch described the situation to the bridge and received instructions from that location.
The people who were supposed to deal with it (Gunner's Mates ratings), paled and balked their assigned duties. Time was running out. If the round ‘cooked off’, the entire warhead, having a lower ignition temperature than the propellant charge, would detonate first, before the propellant charge; causing the steel breech surrounding it to automatically become a massive amount of shrapnel (frag), easily able to compromise both lightly shielded gun crews assembled underneath the gun turrets on the stern (14 men).
Petty officer Branch, did not argue with the reluctant Gunner's Mates ratings. Winked at his first loader and said: "I need another volunteer, besides myself ".
I volunteered for the objective of extracting the cooking off round, and throwing it over the side, before it detonated inside the breech.
.
Petty officer Branch broke the more secure cover of the splinter shield with me, returning back to the interior smoking gun mount. Paint was bubbling and peeling off of the entire artillery piece. Branch wore a headphone & speaker set, to receive instructions from the Gunner's Mates and the bridge.
The Gunner's Mate petty officer Laport gave petty officer Branch a special camming tool, with which to open the locked breech, to access and remove the round. Branch and I could hear the huddled men on the 'safer' side of the splinter shield (gun tub) talking about how the heated breech and round were probably expanded, and that for this reason, they weren't going to be able to extract the round, and that the two deployed men, and perhaps all the men huddled on the other side of the splinter shield, if not the entire ammunition ship's crew - in the event of secondary explosions and uncontrollable fires - and possibly the surrounding squadron of ships (because we were an ammo ship), therefore, might be endangered.
Under instructions through his head-set, Petty Officer Branch, successfully opened the locked breech.
Asbestos gloves protected me up to my shoulders. The grease from the gloves sizzled and projected a thick white smoke, as they came in contact with the baking round - which slid smoothly out of the breech when Branch unlocked it.
The brass casing reflected a purple-red hue; with its seated projectile - its’ formerly bright, code-painted warhead burned to gray, was peeling and smoldering. It sizzled on contact with the greasy asbestos gloves; exuding a thick, acrid column of opaque white smoke. I quickly sidestepped to the inboard splinter-shield, threw the tumbling round over the side and took cover on the deck behind the shield.
The round, struck the sea with a short, loud quenching sound. Like a scorched branding iron thrust in a water bucket - immediately followed by detonation on impact with the ocean's surface. The hot round apparently being so unstable as to explosively respond to its impact on the water, before it cooled below ignition temperature. Two gun crews (14 men) and several enlisted men and officers on the bridge with binoculars witnessed this incident. Petty Officer Branch commented that, had the round exploded a few seconds earlier, they wouldn’t even have found my dog-tags in a crimson mist.
Although there is enclosed testimony of every phase of this incident from shipmates, there is no report of this event in my *service medical record (*SMR).
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3" 50 Artillery Recoil
SMR incident of recoil injury. The (3" 50/105 howitzer) gun was angled at very high elevation with the breach down next to the deck when I homed the round, while the ship was in a heavy roll in that direction - I nearly fell into the recoil (The gun is not ‘lanyard activated’ - instead, it automatically fires as soon as the breach closes after each round is homed in the chamber by hand). The breach struck the heel of the loading right hand, spun me around and momentarily paralyzed my right shoulder; the arm was thrust behind my back and convulsing for several moments. I dropped to my knees, grabbed the sleeve of my right arm with my left hand and pulled the arm forward after placing the forearm between my knees. When medics arrived, Gun Captain Roger Branch and several of the gun crewman told them what had just happened and they said that this reaction had ‘reduced’ a dislocated shoulder. I was consequently allotted ‘light duty’ for several weeks. The incident is recorded as having occurred, 23 May '61, while the fleet was preparing to invade the Bay Of Pigs. I was first loader at my GQ station for 3 ½ years.

Please proceed to Pt II
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[RascalPuff]

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Bay of Pigs. April - May, ‘61
Large portions of the entire 6th Fleet were in a ‘holding pattern’ around the island of Cuba, from April through May of 1961 (Not to be confused with the ‘Missile Crisis’ of 10/’62). To my knowledge, there was no major deployment of troops or cargo to the island in this period of standing off the island aboard ship(s).
On the other hand there were Americans deployed to the island - that I know of - prior to the invasion window, which, to the best of my knowledge, is from 6 May, ‘61 thru 26 May, ‘61.
There were Americans on the island as early as mid April, 61; I am sure of this because I coxswained a boat with 16 passengers - mostly Americans (one, known as ‘Irish’) - to various parts of the island, for 5 ½ days (after which time my LCVP boat was relieved by another of the same description). There were about three of the 16 (small arm equipped) passengers who spoke English with a Spanish accent. Including myself and an American Lt. jg, no one on board was in uniform, most of them wore civilian dungarees, I was assigned to coxswain an LCVP boat, with no markings and our Colors struck down.
I was briefed and told that our activities were routine exercises (characteristic of Fleet unit ‘shakedown cruise’ deployments around Cuba), and only through long term hindsight did I learn that we were apparently doing reconnaissance in preparation for the forthcoming (classified) invasion. I had access to charts which included an area called ‘Blue Beach’, which I later learned was the Bay of Pigs (proper).
To the best of my recollection we did not recon that area. We stationed ourselves in thick foliage-overgrown rivers and small inlets in the day time. A lightly armed six man team (without a radio) made sojourns inland, I don’t know how far, in daylight hours.
At night we ventured into open sea near shore, where divers from my boat brought up debris and recorded depths and sub-surface coral formations, drop offs and inclines.
After I returned to my ship from this duty, I was re-called and ordered to a designated location to rendezvous with and pick up ‘personnel’ (I would later learn that some of these men were among those who had been with me on my boat for the first described detail, ‘Irish’ was among them). The contacts were absent from their station of appointment. The crew (ship’s company from another unit - other than my regular crew from my ship) and I waited for three and a half hours. We were then told that there had been a change of schedule and ordered - and transported by another small craft - away from the designated coordinate and back to our ships. I don’t know why these men were absent from the assigned meeting place. About three months later I was told they were ‘transferred’; without further explanation.
When I was discharged (7/’62) from four years and three days of active service, my DD214 made no mention of the Bay of Pigs. On occasions when the subject was brought up and I said I was there - ashore - I was consistently reviled (in two cases I was physically attacked, on one of these occasions I was struck over the back with a heavy metal chair), on the popular but false premise that ‘no Americans were in the Bay of Pigs’ (An entire armada of ships was just off shore).
In 1980, under the sponsorship of then congressman Leon E. Panetta (a former navy member, who found my story credible - Mr. Panetta later went on to become Chief of Staff of the Clinton White House), I joined the Veterans of Foreign Wars (which requires membership to have served in a war zone). It was known to everyone in my post that I had no papers for the Bay of Pigs. In April, 1985, the acting Commander abrasively and publicly dismissed me from my post because I had no papers.
Six months later, in October, ‘85, congressman Panetta recovered and sent me my Navy Dept. papers (attached), with the Navy Expeditionary Medal. I returned to my VFW post (5888, which I co-founded in 1983, Santa Cruz, CA) with the described documents and proof.
I was immediately and physically attacked by three post officers (Vice Commander Steve Bare, Quartermaster Lee T. Bookout, and Adjutant Robert Hall). I prevailed in the fight. In February and March of ‘86, I was charged with battery and brought to stand jury trial, as a defendant in a court of law for the first (and only) time in my life. The opposition lost (again). I was found ‘Not guilty’ of battery. Whereas, I was disallowed, under consequence of being ‘rat-packed’, from ever attending post meetings again, or even entering the Veterans Memorial Building - which had previously been an important part of my life (as Officer of the Day/Security Officer), since 1980.
This rogue ‘policy’ was strictly maintained, to the time I moved from Santa Cruz, in 2002.
Since 1996, when I attempted to subject the above events and circumstances with V.A. counselors, they consistently prohibited and balked discussion about it (‘We don’t do politics’).
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Car & truck collision
As stated in the (attached) service medical report (SMR) on this incident, the injury was minor and the physical consequence was minimal.
The circumstance of the accident was that the truck made a left hand turn out of the right hand lane without signalling, resulting in Byer’s vehicle (in which I was the front seat passenger) braking while he (BM3 Napoleon Byers) steered to the left as it impacted and proceeded half way under the (left hand turning) cargo truck bed, shearing off about one third of the roof of the car.
Byers took the described action to minimize impact. I threw myself down on the seat with my left hand on the lower dashboard and my right hand raised in a defensive reaction. The shattered windshield and passenger side upright post passed over me because we could see the impending collision and took the described evasive actions. The truck lost several hundred pounds of live crabs, which were strewn over a wide area of the highway. The driver’s side of the car was undamaged. Part of the truck’s undercarriage was wiped out, along with my side of the car. Had I not reacted as described, I certainly would have been decapitated.
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Tever
I woke up under sexual assault from SN Tever, who slept beside me in the same double tier of bunks. I cursed and punched him to the deck, where several people pulled me away from him and restrained me. The incident woke up most of the people in the forward compartment. I couldn’t sleep and sat up all night on the messdeck. When revellie was piped, I reported the incident to Division Petty Officer, Roger Branch, who was among the many witnesses. He took notes and ordered me to report to the commissioned Division Officer, which I did. We were moored in port, tied to a pier, in Bayonne, N.J., and within a matter of hours, two Criminal Investigation Division (CID) Officers were aboard and I was ordered to report to my Division Officer’s quarters where I was questioned by the two investigators and told to compose a detailed written report of what happened. SN Tever was then ordered to report to the same to CID Officers, where, as I learned shortly afterward, SN Tever did not contest my testimony or written statements. There were rumors implying that somehow I was responsible for this, until Tever was ordered off the ship before working hours ended that same day. This (Summer of ‘60) event is not reported in my service record. I have since learned that I am obliged to acquire Tever’s consent, before I can access Navy records, through the Freedom of Information Act.
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Falling dunnage
Having momentarily removed my helmet while working ammo crates on the third level of a cargo hold, I was struck on the top of the head by a vertically descending, approximately ten foot length of 2 x 4. It dropped me to one knee and someone asked me if I was all right, I replied in the affirmative. The next thing I remember is waking up in a hospital with a Dr. asking me if I knew where I was. I didn’t know I was in the Fort Monmouth Medical Facility until I was told. I have no recollection of being transported there by ambulance or being winched out of the hold in a Stokes stretcher.

Please proceed to Part III

[RascalPuff]

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Accommodation ladder. Storm.
A two pennant (40 knot) gale kicked up just as my whaleboat took on its capacity of passengers at Fleet Landing, in - as I recall - Genoa, Italy, where I was ordered to make my run anyway. When I rounded the sea wall and headed toward my ship there were thirty foot breakers oncoming. Several passengers were shouting for me to ‘Turn around!’, which you cannot do, because to expose your beam to oncoming weather is to encounter a high risk of rolling over. As (curling and breaking sea) conditions prevailed, the (27 ‘) boat was in danger of somersaulting backwards (‘pitch-poling’). I proceeded (about three miles) through the heavy weather toward my anchored ship (Due to explosive hazards and dangers of sabotage, ammo ships almost always anchor out instead of mooring at the pier. Consequently, boats and crews are heavily employed).
My engineer and bowhook had to restrain several panicked people who were trying to pull me out of the coxswain’s pit and take control of the boat. When we made it to the ship, there were thirty footers rolling under and over the accommodation ladder alongside. It was not feasible to carry out standard procedure of tying up at the bottom platform of the accommodation ladder, because the ocean alternately drops below and surges above it - introducing a factor of collision with the ladder at high point or being raised up under and into the platform (- and having the bottom of the ladder punch a hole in the deck of your boat and possibly injuring passengers if not worse -) after falling and then rising up, beneath it. It was clear that I could not deploy my passengers at the accommodation ladder, although the Officer of the Deck was ordering me to do so through a megaphone. I elected to keep my boat into the weather and deploy my passengers - one and two at a time - to a Jacob’s ladder suspended from the outboard rigged, port boat boom. In this unorthodox procedure I evacuated all of my passengers safely, with the exception of one, who incurred a badly broken leg. The Quarterdeck Officer said he was going to have me court martialed for disobedience of a direct order. Instead, after a couple of weeks passed, I received an ‘honorable mention’ at formal inspection quarters... In a three and a half year tour of sea duty (on the same ammo ship) I was granted four ‘honorable mentions’ at quarters, for ‘lifesaving’. Although there is testimony of this incident from John Keegan’s enclosed statement, this event is not reported in my service record.
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Smitty
A middle aged shipmate, 1st Class Machinist Mate - Smith (‘Smitty’) was stricken with a heart attack during a general quarters drill in the Carribean. The Chief Medical Corpsman designated a resuscitation team, including a comrade named ‘Thompson’, and myself. Smith lost and regained his heartbeat several times. The Chief Corpsman administered an ‘intracardial’ of adrenalin, directly to the heart, but Smith perished after several hours of working on him. His body was placed in a refrigeration unit at just over 32o and a 24 Honor Guard watch - of which I was a participant - was stationed just outside, out of tradition, and to insure that the temperature did not fall below 33o. When we made port, Thompson and I were assigned to move the body from a table to a Stokes stretcher. A sheet covered the decedant and when Thompson and I reached under the sheet to lift the body, we abruptly learned that Mr. Smith’s remains were disrobed. We had expected to make contact with a uniformed decedent. Thompson and I made eye contact and non verbally agreed to withdraw our hands and re-engage them so that the cover sheet separated our hands from the body. Although there is written testimony from Division Petty Officer Branch, this event is not reported in my service record.
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Pinned between whaleboat and ship.
My whaleboat was tethered to the outboard boat boom while I was working alone at night. There was a fairly choppy sea moving under the boat and it pitched me over the starboard side into the water. I had temporarily slacked the tether line which allowed the boat to make contact with the side of the ship, pinning me between the two - twice knocking the breath out of me, further threatening to crush me between the boat and the ship. My left ankle was fouled in a submerged drift line. I was unable to disentangle the line on my leg, and although my life jacket was protecting me from being completely crushed I was running out of breath while the rolling and pitching boat continued to pin me between itself and the ship - my life jacket also prevented me from deliberately going under to free the line on my ankle. I yelled for help several times but there was no response. Several minutes passed this way, as the boat continued to hammer me against the side of the ship. I opted to remove my lifejacket so I could deliberately go under to escape being pinned, and to untangle the line on my leg, which disallowed me from maneuvering to pull myself back on board. I took off my life jacket and dove under the boat to the opposite (port) side where I employed the same line that still entangled me to pull myself back aboard.
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500 pound bomb
5 April, 1961 Earle, New Jersey, munitions depot
A civilian forklift operator rounded a blind corner near a railroad boxcar, in a restricted area (where he wasn’t authorized to be), with a load of ammo lifted high in the air; upon seeing me (with my back turned), he hit the brakes. I heard that, and something slide off the forks (above me) and reflexively side stepped, moving all of my body, except my foot, out from under. The disarmed bomb glanced off the side of my foot. The load was supposed to be transported at a low elevation. I ordered him off the machine, boarded it, lowered the remaining load to the stops, and vomited on the floorboards, before I was taken to Sick Bay.
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Backdown whirlpool
Between Fleet Operations in the Med, the Officer of the underway deck (Lt. Skulley) declared recreational ‘swim call’, on a Sunday. An embarkation net was slung over the side to accommodate the crew members who chose to participate. After swimmers entered the water, it became apparent that the ship still had some forward way, passing up the swimmers, who the ‘lifeguard whaleboat’ began to recover. The Officer of the Underway Deck and Conn ordered a full backdown, which generated a large whirlpool - advancing upon Signalman Van Buren and I, who were immediately alongside the ship - unlike the other swimmers, who were distant enough from the ship to be safely approached and brought aboard the whaleboat, as the ship continued its forward motion with the whirlpool in its wake, the reversed propellor threatening to overtake, draw under and decimate Van Buren and I, who were left alongside for about a minute, swimming with all our strength, away from the ever advancing whirlpool, toward the embarkation net. I was at the end of my endurance when Van Buren - just ahead of me - caught up to and gained a grip on the embarkation net. It was at that moment that I grabbed his ankle. We both very nearly drowned with exhaustion, which takes only moments when one’s respiration rate is stressed to maximum; the alternative being to be overtaken by the advancing whirlpool and decimated in the ship’s 19' diameter, screw.
Although there is testimony from my shipmates enclosed, this event is not reported in my service medical record.
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Fall from Working Platform
While working (in-port at mooring station) on a stage over the side of the ship, the platform shifted and I fell. A safety line seized up around my right hand, causing my right arm to absorb the full force of the fall. See attached SMR.

Thank you for reading this three part missive. - RP

[mkirkpatrick]

I know how you feel rascal,when my Budgie died I was off my food for over 6 hours!


regards michael.

[RascalPuff]

Originally Posted by mkirkpatrick I know how you feel rascal,when my Budgie died I was off my food for over 6 hours! regards michael.

The only time I ever lost my lunch is when the fork lift driver dropped a bomb on me.

Regards,
- RP

[mkirkpatrick]

Originally Posted by RascalPuff The only time I ever lost my lunch is when the fork lift driver dropped a bomb on me. Regards, - RP

The thoughtless swine!Fancy messing with a mans lunch!



regards michael.

[RascalPuff]

Originally Posted by mkirkpatrick The thoughtless swine!Fancy messing with a mans lunch! regards michael.

Upper administration was going to fire this annoying trespasser, but I persuaded them to settle for putting him on the docks without his forklift. The service medical report on this includes the unlikely wording, 'dropped bomb on foot', fortunately there were a spate of witnesses to relate how this (faux pax?) could occur.

regards RP

[Tina]

Originally Posted by RascalPuff All of the following list of stressors are on file with the Bureau of Veterans Affairs. I am twice diagnosed with severe childhood and military related PTSD. (Rascal Puff proceeds here to list a litany of horrendously nightmarish incidents) Please proceed to Pt II _______________________

OMG - isn't there an easier way?

You have been throught hell and back again

[RascalPuff]

Originally Posted by Tina