Here are stories I covered that dealt with veterans’ issues.
64 years later, Ed Peterson gets his Purple Heart
By Hannan Adely • The Journal News • April 30, 2008
SPARKILL — Ed Peterson was in a passageway aboard the USS Santee talking to a fellow sailor when he heard the kamikaze plane heading for his ship and saw the gunfire spray onto the deck. He dived for cover, and though he wasn’t hit, the blast left him shaken and left a loud ringing in his ears.
For me to describe the noise and the concussion would be impossible,” said the 82-year-old World War II veteran. “It was horrific.”
Peterson lost much of his hearing that day in October 1944, while serving as a Navy sailor off the Philippines during the Battle of Leyte Gulf. But it wasn’t until yesterday – nearly 64 years after the battle – that he was awarded the Purple Heart for his service. With fellow veterans and family watching, Rep. Eliot Engel, D-Bronx, presented the medal which Peterson’s wife, Mona, pinned on his blazer.
For more, visit http://www.lohud.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=2008804300403.
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For Palisades native, war trauma ends in suicide
By Hannan Adely • The Journal News • March 1, 2008
PALISADES – After two tours in Iraq with the Marine Corps Reserve, Steven Vickerman tried to resume a normal life at home with his wife, but he could not shake a feeling of despair.
His parents, Richard and Carole Vickerman of Palisades, went to visit him at a veterans hospital after he suffered a mental breakdown; they were in disbelief. The funny and adventurous baby brother had become sullen, withdrawn and full of anxiety. Vickerman, who was suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder, killed himself Feb. 19.
“We’re still in shock. Our son was a proud Marine. He served his country honorably, and we don’t know what happened to him,” said Carole Vickerman, who buried her son Tuesday at Rockland Cemetery in Sparkill.
As soldiers return from service in Iraq and Afghanistan, many are unprepared to deal with the anxiety and depression stemming from their experiences in war. Some seek help from the Veterans Health Administration, part of the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs, but become frustrated by paperwork and long waits for counseling and care. Others feel too proud or embarrassed to seek help at all, or believe they can tough it out with time. Despair drives many to take their own lives, according to reports and experts.
The Veterans Health Administration estimated in a May 2007 report that 1,000 suicides occurred per year among veterans who received care within the VHA and as many as 5,000 per year among all veterans. At the same time, the number of returning veterans with post-traumatic stress disorder is surging, according to studies and veterans advocacy groups.
Families like the Vickermans often feel overwhelmed by the guilt and helplessness that surrounds post-traumatic stress disorder. The Vickermans wanted to help their son but did not know where to look for support services or how to deal with the effects of the illness.
The VA, they believed, had failed their son. The services available, they said, were insufficient, and the government should do more to address the issue for returning war vets.
“There should be something that can be done, not only for the proud soldiers but also for their families,” Carole Vickerman said. “When you hear the word ’stress,’ it sounds so innocuous. It’s not stress; it’s a killer.”
Steven Vickerman, a Tappan Zee High School graduate, enlisted in the Marine Corps Reserve in 1998. A whiz at technical jobs and an electrician by trade, the staff sergeant served as a small arms technician with Marine Aircraft Group 49, Detachment B, at Stewart Air National Guard Base in Newburgh.
His first tour in Iraq was interrupted when he returned home to be with his older brother, who was dying of a brain tumor. Robert died at age 35. Vickerman served a second tour and was honorably discharged in 2005.
He returned to Pittsburgh, where his parents thought he was doing fine readjusting to civilian life. He graduated from a gunsmithing school and then went to Kansas to continue his education to become a small-arms engraver.
But in January 2007, he was taken to a hospital after suffering a mental breakdown and was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder. He stayed in a veterans hospital in Kansas City for five days. Afterward, his wife, Karen, brought him to his parents’ Palisades home so he could be close to the VA hospital in Montrose.
During the two months he stayed in Palisades, he had trouble sleeping and would sit and stare into space or at the television, his father recalled. He stuttered and his speech was broken, and he always looked on edge, as if he were looking out for enemy gunfire. Steven said nothing about his service – not what he did, what he saw or where he was stationed.
One night during dinner, he nearly hit the ground after he heard a truck slam into a pothole outside the family’s home. The once take-charge soldier was unable to make decisions, his father said. He told his parents he did not know what was happening to him and that he did not think he would recover.
“Steve was a 6-foot, 200-pound guy, all muscle,” Richard Vickerman said. “I can’t believe that he went over and came back in the condition he came back.”
Though he sought help in veterans hospitals in Kansas City and in Montrose, Vickerman was not happy with the care he received and did not want to continue, his parents said. He told them he believed the service was impersonal and that he did not connect with the older Vietnam veterans treated alongside him. One hospital staffer made him feel as if he was just out to get disability benefits from the government, he told his family.
With support from his wife, Vickerman continued to get help from a private therapist.
About two weeks ago, Vickerman’s wife went on a business trip in New York City and could not reach her husband by phone. The Vickermans also could not reach him.
They called his therapist, who was scheduled to see him on a Wednesday, but Vickerman missed his appointment. The therapist called police, who found Vickerman dead at his home, where he had hanged himself.
Carole Vickerman thinks her son gave up hope after he became unable to work, go to school or get his mind and life back on track.
“All his dreams were gone, and he had to reinvent himself all over again,” she said. “He was trying to find a new Steven, and he wasn’t able to do that. I think the struggle got so hard for him at the end that he felt he was no longer a person, so what was the use.”
The Vickermans said they wished they could have done more. They think there should be more support services for families whose children and spouses are returning from war, more specialists who deal with post-traumatic stress syndrome in the VA system, and more research done in the field to help returning soldiers. Richard Vickerman also said he believed the government should explore ways veterans could receive mental health benefits at private medical facilities.
Jerry Donnellan, director of the Rockland Veterans Service Agency, said it had been difficult for organizations like his to reach out to veterans and their families because the VA would not release information about returning service members, citing privacy issues. Rockland County has tried to get that information through the Freedom of Information Law, but that request was denied.
Donnellan has tried to get the word out to veterans through the media and community groups. Like other veterans advocates, he thinks the need is dire because repeat tours and long deployments are driving a high rate of post-traumatic stress disorder.
“The issue of PTSD is worse than I have ever seen it, and I have been doing this for 20 years now,” Donnellan said.
After a series of high-profile suicides and news reports about suicides among Iraq and Afghanistan war veterans, the federal government has taken steps to improve mental health care. Congress held hearings on the topic last year, and President Bush signed the Joshua Omvig Suicide Prevention bill into law Nov. 25.
The bill, named for a soldier who committed suicide after returning from Iraq, requires suicide prevention counselors to be on staff at each VA facility and mental health training for all VA staff, and it supports education and outreach programs for veterans and families.
Richard Vickerman thinks that, with so many cases of suicide and post-traumatic stress disorder, Americans should continue to demand action for the soldiers who sacrificed so much to protect freedoms in the United States.
“Why the American people aren’t hearing about this and raising the roof -that flag over there, the flag behind you, is the price that’s being paid all over this country by families,” he said, tearfully looking over at the folded flag that the Marines presented to him at his son’s funeral. “It’s not right.”
Reach Hannan Adely at hadely@lohud.com or 845-578-2439.
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Honors long overdue
Hannan Adely
The Journal News
Feb. 20, 2006
Though 61 years have passed since Joseph Monaco served in World War II, his memories are vivid.
Monaco remembers his ship traveling over rough north Atlantic seas to deliver planes, weapons and ammunition to U.S. troops, all while being chased by submarines. He remembers that at one time 775 captured German troops were aboard his ship.
But the 83-year-old Yonkers resident was left with just that – memories – until his daughter recently helped him retrieve the three medals and two pins he earned during the war.
Monaco’s experience is becoming increasingly common, military officials and veterans advocates say, as many of the more than 16 million Americans who served in the U.S. armed forces during World War II take stock of the legacies they will leave behind. And many are well aware of this sobering statistic – some 1,000 WWII veterans die every day. Many of those veterans never received their medals because of mistakes in paperwork, because they did not know they were eligible, or simply because they did not bother to pursue them after returning home.
“As time goes on and people grow old, they want to put things in order,” said Mikal Ansari, assistant director of the Westchester County Veterans Service Agency, which helps veterans apply for medals.
Lt. Col. Kevin Arata, a spokesman for U.S. Army, said he didn’t have hard numbers, but requests for medals certainly had gone up in recent years. The Army tries to correct any errors of the past, he said, and get veterans their medals as soon as possible.
“Many of the World War II vets are reaching the age where they’re not as healthy as they used to be or dying off,” he said.
Ansari said his agency helps between five and a dozen veterans apply for medals each year, most of them having served in World War II. Some of the veterans never got their medals, Ansari said, while others lost them and sought replacements.
“When they are young, they’re not thinking about that kind of stuff. Then grandkids get on the scene and ask grandpa what happened in the war, and that’s when they feel compelled to go out there and get it,” Ansari said.
For Sy Gitlin, grandchildren are precisely what inspired him to get his Bronze Star 58 years after he left the Army, where he served in France and Germany as a paratrooper. His two grandsons would ask him to describe his war experiences, and he once spoke in his grandson’s class about the topic. In 2003, he received his Bronze Star, which he placed in a display case alongside his parachute wings and combat infantry badge, items he plans to pass on to his grandchildren.
“We (World War II veterans) are not going to be around too much longer,” Gitlin said, “and I guess we’ve got to put our ducks in order.”
The 79-year-old New Rochelle man said he knew he was eligible for the awards when he returned from the service, but it was not important to him at that point.
“It’s just one of those things,” he said. “You go on with life and you come back and do other things, with a wife, family and kids and making a living and so forth.”
Many more veterans were not aware they were eligible for the medals. Monaco said he was shocked when his daughter, Linda Monaco Behrens, told him that she had applied on his behalf and that he had three medals and two pins on the way.
“Who knew we were going to get these? No one told us we had a medal coming,” he said.
Even after Behrens sent in the request in March 2004, getting the medals took nearly two years. She was persistent, keeping on top of the request and even enlisting the help of Rep. Nita Lowey, the Harrison Democrat.
“I just thought he deserved it,” Behrens said. “I thought he deserved to know his services were appreciated.”
This month, Monaco finally received his forgotten awards: a World War II Victory Medal, the American Campaign Medal and the European-African-Middle Eastern Campaign Medal. He also received two pins marking his discharge and honorable service.
Though his family was excited about the honor, Behrens called it bittersweet.
“Had he had them 20 years ago, it would have been nicer, for when you bump into an old friend,” she said. “There’s not too many people to share it with now.”
Monaco said he hoped the government would do a better job of publicizing the fact many veterans have unclaimed medals. While he is happy to have them as a keepsake, Monaco said, his memories remain the strongest testament to his time served in World War II.
“When you look back,” he said, “what’s most important is that you got back alive.”
Staff writer Rebecca Baker Erwin contributed to this report.
Reach Hannan Adely at hadely@lohud.com or 914-696-8285.
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Vietnam POW to be honored 31 years later
Hannan Adely • The Journal News • April 3, 2004
Capt. Edward Alan Brudno endured 7ÿ years of torture and captivity in North Vietnam. When he returned home with six other prisoners of war in 1973, he was euphoric.
“The initial euphoria and high passed quickly,” the Air Force captain’s brother, Robert Brudno, said in a telephone interview. “He was terribly depressed and worthy of the best care the military could give him.”
That treatment never came. Brudno battled his memories, his scars, his loss of youth and the feeling that his sacrifice had little value.
Four months after his return, Brudno killed himself at the home of his wife’s family in Harrison.
Last year, a public controversy ensued after Brudno’s family tried to get his name added to the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington, D.C. Robert Brudno said he followed all the proper procedures to get the name on the wall, but the action was held up by public protest from Jan Scruggs, president of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Fund.
Scruggs charged that adding Brudno’s name would invite a flood of requests from soldiers who committed suicide. Brudno’s family insisted that like those other names on the wall, Brudno died as a result of wounds he received in Vietnam.
Yesterday, the Brudnos learned that the struggle was over. The Department of Defense announced that Brudno’s name would be etched onto the wall.
It was June 3, 1973, one day before his 33rd birthday, when Brudno took his own life at his in-laws’ home on Crawford Road in Harrison. In a letter on a night table, he wrote in French, “My life is no longer worth living.”
When Brudno left for Vietnam at age 25, he was a graduate of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology who enlisted so he could get pilot experience and become an astronaut.
In October 1965, his plane was shot down, and he was taken prisoner.
Former POW Orson Swindle, now a commissioner on the Federal Trade Commission, communicated with Brudno by tapping through walls and shared a cell with him for several weeks.
“This ordeal is a stressful thing beyond anything that the average person can tolerate,” Swindle said. “You are screaming to die just to get out of the pain.”
The POWs held on to one another for support and struggled to make it through each painful day, but when they finally returned home, the world had changed.
Wives were distant, family members had died, children had aged, and memories were haunting. Antiwar activists made it worse, Robert Brudno said, when they threw the blame at soldiers like his brother.
The suicide in Harrison sent aftershocks around the country. Soldiers and citizens wondered why Brudno, after so many years in captivity, would end his life just four months after he had achieved freedom.
Brudno said his brother did not get the treatment he needed to handle the trauma he had faced.
“These were flyboys, and more importantly, these were flyboys that had a 1960s notion of psychology,” he said. “They were not going to raise their hand to say `I need help.’ “
After Brudno’s death, the military paid closer attention to the mental care of POWs, Swindle and Robert Brudno said.
“Every POW still benefits from the wake-up call he provided,” Brudno said.
Now, the military has a more proactive approach to psychological help for soldiers and POWs. Currently in Iraq, combat stress control teams travel with units to prevent and treat problems and to educate soldiers about mental health.
In 1997, Robert Brudno approached Scruggs to ask about adding his brother’s name to the wall. He said he was discouraged and was led to believe there wasn’t anyplace for a soldier who committed suicide.
Soldiers who killed themselves in Vietnam had been added to the wall, but no soldier who committed suicide back home had ever received the honor.
Then last year, Brudno noticed the names of soldiers who died in 2002 and 1999. They earned places because they died as a result of wounds received in Vietnam. “So did my brother,” he thought.
In the summer of 2003, Brudno started the process to add his brother’s name to the wall. The Air Force reviewed the medical records and determined that Brudno died as a result of severe psychological wounds at the hands of the enemy.
In February, the Air Force recommended that Brudno’s name be added to the memorial wall.
The Department of Defense is responsible for finalizing the addition of the name, but the matter was stalled because of the publicity surrounding Scruggs’ objection.
Veterans and public officials, including Sen. John McCain, R-Ariz., himself a former POW, spoke out in favor of adding the captain’s name. Scruggs ultimately withdrew his protest.
In retrospect, Scruggs said, “It’s not appropriate for us as an organization to comment on any case. It’s not our job to do that.”
Robert Brudno said he was disturbed because the public controversy opened wounds for the family and made them recount the tragedy around his brother’s death.
“Obviously, the whole family was very happy that this whole battle was over,” Brudno said. “It’s been very costly in terms of time and emotion. This is not a story that is easy to tell.”
Capt. Edward Alan Brudno’s name will be etched into the wall during the first two weeks of May. He will be honored along with new and old names in a ceremony on Memorial Day.
“This a place where heroes are listed, and his name belongs,” Robert Brudno said. “It’s eternal recognition. I can keep his memory alive only as long as I live. This will last.”
Reach Hannan Adely at hadely@thejournalnews.com or 914-694-3525.
