Veterans, Heroes, Sheroes and Villians

A day to acknowledge the military

As a disabled Army veteran, today is my day. It belongs to all those who wore a uniform and served. It even belongs to those who were dishonorably discharged, for at least for one brief, shining moment they raised their hands in an honorable way to say they would fight for all Americans.

Today is my day, their day. This day, because of my experiences, I watch at least most of my countrymen pay at least some homage or respect (and at least a free Denny’s breakfast) to those of us who stood willing to take a bullet.

Some of us didn’t take a bullet, but we did have to take a bully. Or two or three or five. We women vets paid a very different price in many ways; I never saw combat, but I was raped repeatedly, which is its own kinda war.

Today America honors those rapists, bullies and abusers as “American heroes.” You understand my cognitive dissonance. You who have not worn the uniform, you who have not been raped or gang raped by fellow or senior officers do NOT get to say “tut tut, not true.”

Today America honors those same rapists and bullies who annually commit some ten thousand rapes against my male military peeps. And calls them heroes. I beg to differ.

You who have this Disney fantasy notion about honor in the military, please, grow the fuck up.

I am forever grateful to the Army for many things. A structured place to learn to succeed. A platform from which to finish my college education. A place to push my boundaries, find my bravery and set the stage for the person I might become.

It was also where in 1976, a then-Air Force Captain carefully groomed me as a brand new butter bar. Then on our first date, he took me to a sex party where I was the party favor. Handed around to twelve different men and women, one of them a prominent Denver newscaster, I was threatened with secrecy or severe repercussions as I limped out the door and into my violator’s car. And bled into my underwear on the way back to his house where he brutalized me further. He retired as a Lieutenant Colonel and lives in Las Vegas.

I see you, you dishonorable piece of shite.

I never spoke of it for forty years.

I was 23. Much worse would follow.

These are our American “heroes.”

There are aspects of military life I both respect and regard. I finished college. I got professional experience. Both were priceless. I left the service right about the time that post Vietnam-hate was at its peak, and avoided mentioning my veteran status. It took decades for people to see the sacrifices we made.

Most still deny the sacrifices that my fellow military peeps and I, we who were raped and plundered and silenced by the system, really made in service to our country. Most of us went on to become exemplary officers and noncoms, a fact which the VA used for decades to prove that our claims of sexual assault weren’t real. Life post-military became yet another battle in a game of blame the victim, a denial behavior that America has elevated to high art.

Our heroes couldn’t possibly do that.

Yeah. They could. Did. Still do. In numbers that are beyond shocking. The mental price all of us pay with PTSD has repercussions throughout all society, with wounds even deeper and longer-lasting than the TBI from bombs or lost limbs.

The damage we experience can end up in bizarre public behaviors, which I can personally only attribute to severe emotional distress. Here’s what I mean:

McSally lost all her credibility and all sympathy from those of us who understood the price she had paid when she got raped. This is how the system twists us and spits us out. I feel for her. But she has no business in public life after demeaning her fellow military officer and calling her claims baseless. Apparently other Arizonans agreed. I value her contribution as a military person. However, it appears to me that what she suffered turned her into an abuser. She’s not alone. It’s a deeply unfortunate outcome of abuse:

The burden of breaking the cycle falls upon us, the victims. Not all of us can. Many of us, as did I, turn to self-hate and body dysmorphia as a way to punish ourselves, because we honestly, criminally, believe that it was all our fault.

When it comes to the military, it is in every single way the military’s fault. For just as a perfect example, in 1976 after a banner year for bastards I was sent to a military psychiatrist for treatment for sexual assault.

He was a rapist.

I cannot think of a more perfect Catch-22. If I stood up our appointments, during which I’d be raped, I’d be AWOL. As a psychiatrist, if I had reported him, all he had to do was write that I was mentally deranged. BOOM. Or worse, a dishonorable discharge, which would harm me the rest of my natural life. You never shake off the shame of a dishonorable discharge.

Such is the abuse of power in the military. That man is buried with honors in Arlington. On more than one occasion I considered spraying graffiti on his pristine white gravestone.

He left this mortal plane as a much-admired two star general, head of Walter Reed Army Hospital.

Those are among the people we call heroes.

From the article:

Galbreath’s office estimates that the number of sexual assaults that are reported to authorities is now around 30 percent of total assaults committed, versus the 7 percent figure established when DoD first stood up the office more than a decade ago. “For the first 10 years of the program, we did see quite a bit of progress,” he said, estimating that the prevalence of sexual assaults fell from about 34,000 in 2006 to 14,000 in 2016. “But then in 2018, we came to you and we saw an uptick in the rates, largely in women.”

And especially women ages 18 to 24, during their first terms of service. (author bolded)

That tracks for me. I was 23, in my third year, but my first as an officer.

There are plenty of fine men and women in our military. I honor and salute them. I thank them for doing what it took and still takes to stand for what used to be a proud America, an America which, right now, has a dishonest draft dodger crying about losing his absolute power as their Commander-in-Chief. But I digress.

Those of us who speak out get trolled and vilified by the very people whose sacred right to attack us in public, we paid a very high price to guarantee. That we stood to protect that right, and that people are happy to use that right of free speech against us, isn’t lost on us either.

On this day, I call out the immensely good and honorable Disabled American Veterans who put in yeoman’s work to fight for VA benefits. While there have been some improvements, the VA remains a massive bureaucracy which traditionally has turned both a blind eye to the plight of those of us who were raped, but which also continues to stumble in its response to the vast needs of women transitioning to civilian life. My DAV advisor likely saved my life. If you want to salute veterans, please consider donating to the DAV. These veterans are saving veterans. They really deserve your support.

Veteran’s Day honors all of us. But I cannot help but wonder every time I see a parade where those greying men march out so smartly in their uniforms, how many people- male or female, military or civilian, did YOU rape, sir?

I salute the men and women who were brutalized but did the job anyway.

I salute the brave men and women who were hurt and harmed and humiliated but got up and stood watch, fought the enemies and took bullets anyway. Who bear the scars of war, and their hearts and souls bear the scars of sexual assault and rape. The cost to shut up and do your duty no matter what.

I salute the brave men and women who understood, and who still understand, what real service and heroism look like. They fought our wars, and they fought a war inside the military, in our own trenches, against “friendly fire,” knowing that if they dared stand up for themselves they would be summarily shot down.

When we get out, the battles don’t stop.

You will note that on that website there is not a single female veteran photo. They list the stats, but don’t show a single female face. For our rates, and those of our LGBTQ peers, are appallingly high.

From the article:

Female veterans are nearly 250 percent more likely to kill themselves than civilian women.

Because, of those of us gutsy enough to speak the truth, 40% of us report military sexual assault. Many more don’t feel safe to speak up. Took me forty years to speak my truth. Before you blame the victim for not reporting, you might want to check that shit at the door. The damage done by the military boy’s club is permanent. There is no way a single woman can take on the Pentagon and win.

Arlington National Cemetery is full of heroes, sheroes and rapists. Villains and shitheels who decided that part of their right to have might was to force themselves on people who by military law could not fight back.

Today is Veteran’s Day. This my day. Our day. Before you wholesale salute all our heroes, I might challenge you to consider that it’s not that simple. It never is. Our military is a snapshot of American society. It’s not a pretty one.

But today I stand for, and speak for, the millions of us who fought for our country even when our country would not fight for us.

Those are your heroes, ladies and gentlemen. They deserve our support, our respect, and the kind of care this country needs to provide to those who protected HER freedom while she didn’t exactly return the favor.

To you, my fellow military veterans, I say, Thank you.