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Veterans come home from war with many things and PTSD is one of the main problems.

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Public Section: For Veterans, the General Public, Family and Friends - PTSD: National Center for PTSD

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Information on trauma and PTSD for anyone who has gone through trauma, or knows someone who has. This section explains what to expect after trauma and how to cope, the syptoms of PTSD, and how PTSD treatment can help.

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Military Veterans of Georgia, Inc. was formed to support our Veterans and our community There is a growing problem of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) in the veteran's community. Nationally,...

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Veterans come home to nothing/no one.

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He was a young soldier with an empty duffle bag and a hard luck story.

His girlfriend left him while he was serving in Afghanistan, taking everything of theirs she could fit in her car. Their landlord took the rest.

He cleaned out their apartment and put everything she left behind in paid storage, including all his clothes. The young soldier had no idea this was happening. He was too busy 7,500 miles away in a desert looking for people who want to kill us.

When the storage rental fee went unpaid after six months, all his possessions were sold at auction to pay the bill. He had come home earlier this year to find everything he owned gone.

And now he was standing in a cramped clothing room in Building 22 at the Sepulveda VA looking a little embarrassed as he handed Wynn van Citters a voucher saying he qualified for free, used clothing because he was a low-income veteran.

It was not exactly the homecoming he expected.

"This poor man had been shafted by his girlfriend, his landlord, and the storage company while he was off serving his country," said Wynn, who volunteers in the clothing room three days a week. "What's wrong with that picture?"

Everything.

"I wish I could tell you that was the first time I heard a story like this in the nine years I've been doing this, but it isn't," added the 82-year-old Korean War veteran, who spent four years at Treasure Island Naval Station in San Francisco in the early 1950s helping returning sailors with their discharge papers.

She still can't shake the look on that young soldier's face earlier this year when she wrapped her measuring tape around his waist, then measured his inseam.

"Follow me, son," she said, marching him down cramped aisles filled with donated shirts, pants, sport coats, and suits cleaned and organized by size on the racks. "We just got in some nice clothes your size."

Twenty minutes later, the young man walked out with a full duffle bag. That was the last time she saw him. Even though he was eligible to come back once a month, he never did. She likes to think he's got a new girlfriend and a good job. He doesn't need her clothing room anymore.

* PHOTOS: Wynn van Citters and Mort Schecter volunteer to help veterans get donated clothes

While Wynn sorted through a Hefty bag of garments that had just been donated, her co-worker Mort Schecter sorted out the shoe rack, which was bare of size 10 shoes.

"As soon as we get of a pair of 10s in, they're gone," he said. "I think every vet who comes in is a size 10."

Mort, 92, was a tail gunner on a B-24 bomber from 1942 to 1945 in World War II, and now 70 years later, he's still up for a good fight.

Three mornings a week he pays $5.50 for a round-trip ticket on an access van from his Northridge home to the VA in North Hills, where he works from 9 a.m. to 3 p.m. In return, he gets a $7 voucher for lunch.

The VA should be sending a limo for him. It should count its sweet blessings that there are retired men and women veterans, like Mort and Wynn, who ask for nothing but do so much.

The clothing room they spend 18 hours a week in is little more than a walk-in closet - crammed with donated clothing from veterans and service clubs. They'd take more donations if they had room for them, but they don't. The storage room down the hall is already crammed.

If they had more room and better word of mouth, the 120 low-income veterans they clothe every month would be more like 200 or even 300, Mort thinks.

"I know there are hundreds of veterans out there living hand to mouth who have no idea we exist, that they can come to their local VA and get clean, used clothing for free."

When he's in the cafeteria using his $7 lunch voucher, Mort's always on the lookout for women veterans who may be eligible for the free clothing. None of them seem to know the clothing room even exists, he said.

It's a shame because Wynn fought for years to get a women's section, but her former boss thought it should be strictly for male veterans.

Twenty percent of the military is women, she argued, so she wanted 20 percent of the small space for them. And she finally got it.

There is a rope with a curtain on it strung across their one aisle in the back so the 18 women vets who came in last month with vouchers can try on clothing in privacy.

"Underwear, bras, panties and socks are the toughest items to get because the VA mandates they have to be new," Wynn said. "We're lucky to have the support of service organizations like the Jewish War Veterans and American Legion helping us out, but we could always use more."

So, this holiday season if you're looking for a way to say thank you to the men and women who served this country and are now living on a shoestring, think about Mort, Wynn and all the volunteers in the clothing rooms at the West LA, Long Beach and Sepulveda VA facilities.

Because you know as sure as this war on terrorism is going to last a long time, there are going to be a lot more young soldiers walking into these free clothing rooms with an empty duffle bag and a hard luck story.

To contact the VA clothing room in your area, email vhaglapublicaffairs@va.gov.
Dennis McCarthy's column runs on Friday. He can be reached at dmccarthynews@gmail.com.

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Coming home from war, these veterans often have nothing. Here's how you can help.

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He was a young soldier with an empty duffle bag and a hard luck story. His girlfriend left him while he was serving in Afghanistan, taking everything of theirs she could fit in her car. Their landlord took the rest. He cleaned out their apartment and put everything she left behind in paid storage, including all his clothes.

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Soldiers are affected by PTSD everyday by going to war and we can help by giving them special attention and the help that they need.

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Baseball stadiums are some of the few places where Navy Cmdr. Steven Dundas feels safe, where his mind is not anxiously inching toward the past and latching onto memories of children with missing body parts and the stench of burning swamp fires.

The crack of the bat and the whiz of the ball during a minor league Norfolk Tides game at Harbor Park pulls him into the present and reminds him that he is no longer working at a trauma hospital in a war zone. Cmdr. Dundas, a 54-year-old chaplain for the Joint Forces Staff College, is one of a growing number of military officers struggling with post-traumatic stress disorder.

"I came home feeling completely isolated. I didn't fit in society," said Cmdr. Dundas, who served in the military for more than 25 years before he was afflicted with PTSD in 2008 while deployed in Iraq. "Other chaplains and clergy did very little for me. I felt even cut off from God and for about two years, until about December 2009, I was pretty much an agnostic, just hoping that God was still around."

The Defense Department has reported an uptick in the number of military officers who, like Cmdr. Dundas, are seeking help to cope with the disorder, borne out of war zone trauma and characterized by bouts of anxiety and paranoia. It is often accompanied by night terrors and irrational behavior and has spawned violent behavior and suicides.

The U.S. military has been criticized for being slow to acknowledge and respond to the disorder - and to the complaints of military personnel and their families who said returning troops were suffering long-term psychological damage from their battlefield experiences.

The term "post-traumatic stress disorder" didn't exist 40 years ago, and statistics tracking diagnoses of the disorder were not kept until recently.

Figures compiled by the nonpartisan Congressional Research Service say diagnoses of the disorder among active-duty personnel across all branches of the U.S. military have increased from about 5,700 10 years ago to more than 15,000 last year.

The number of people seeking treatment has increased by more than 20 percent since fiscal 2010, said Army Lt. Col. Cathy Wilkinson, a Pentagon spokeswoman. It remains to be seen whether that growth is related to an increase in stress among military members or merely a rough gauge of those who are willing to step forward and seek help for the disorder.

One reason PTSD sufferers might be reluctant to come forward is the negative connotation associated with the disorder, which often attracts national attention after violent incidents involving veterans or active-duty officers.

This month, military veteran Jason Faber, 34, who suffers from post-traumatic stress disorder, was arrested after the fatal shooting of a neighbor and injuries of two other people in St. Petersburg, Fla.

Also this month, Ivan Lopez, an active-duty Army National Guard member who was part of a logistics and support unit at Fort Hood, Texas, gunned down three people before killing himself. Mr. Lopez, an Iraq veteran, had been suffering from depression and anxiety. He reportedly was taking medication while undergoing a process to determine whether he had post-traumatic stress disorder.

Cmdr. Dundas said most military officers, specifically senior officers such as himself, also tend to hide their condition in part because they fear it might make them seem weak - a perception that could cost them promotions.

"A lot of people are afraid of the stigma, of going to get mental health, because they're afraid that it will impact their careers," he said. "And I don't blame them in that. Because it might."

Cmdr. Dundas said he has known senior officers who were "too proud to get help" and ended up either committing suicide, being admitted to mental wards or losing their commands because of alcohol problems cultivated as a coping mechanism. The fear, he said, trumped their personal welfare.

The Defense Department says it is working to change that and has come a long way to reach out to suffering soldiers.

"We have undertaken a broad-based campaign encouraging service members to seek mental health treatment when signs or symptoms occur, help service members and their families to identify those signs and symptoms, and to destigmatize mental health care overall," Col. Wilkinson said.

But challenges persist.

A 37-year-old Army reservist, who spoke to The Washington Times on the condition of anonymity because he remains uncomfortable publicly discussing his condition, said he served in Iraq and came back physically wounded. But he said he didn't realize the magnitude of his psychological injuries.

The master sergeant said he has fallen on hard times and is now homeless. His family and friends have tried to care for him, but he said he "would rather walk the streets homeless" than to be a burden on his loved ones.

He said his afflictions have prompted thoughts of suicide.

"I have access to guns and I have considered killing myself because I was in so much pain," he said.

Jan Kemp, the national mental health director for suicide prevention for the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs, said the agency has a crisis hotline that veterans and active-duty officers can call whenever they need to talk to someone. Crisis hotline staff members are mental health professionals and veterans who have experienced some degree of post-traumatic stress, she said.

After active-duty officers receive assistance through the hotline, they are referred to a Defense Department mental health care provider, Ms. Kemp said.

Peer support is also available to people seeking help for post-traumatic stress disorder, Ms. Kemp said.

"There are lots of options for people," she said. "It takes a little digging and a little conversation to get the right person to the right option."

Mobile applications, such as the PTSD Coach, are designed to help those suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder track and understand their symptoms, she said.

Cmdr. Dundas said he did not find God again until Christmas Eve 2009, after giving last rites to a retired Navy medical doctor who died in a hospital emergency room.

Years later, he still struggles with chronic insomnia. He continues to have night terrors and suffer from anxiety attacks whenever his car is stuck in traffic. But he continues to work through his disorder and help those around him cope with their symptoms.

"I think that the military is really trying to do those institutional and cultural things to help," Cmdr. Dundas said. "Whether it's giving chaplains or embedding counselors with units trying to increase the amount of mental health providers trying to reduce the stigma and saying that it's OK to get help."

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Less silent suffering: Veterans' post-traumatic stress taken seriously

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Baseball stadiums are some of the few places where Navy Cmdr. Steven Dundas feels safe, where his mind is not anxiously inching toward the past and latching onto memories of children with missing body parts and the stench of burning swamp fires.

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Soldiers keep silent about the what they have been through 

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Soldiers keep silent about the what they have been through 

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NorthEast Georgia Homeless Veterans Shelter

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The Northeast Georgia Homeless Veterans Shelter is the only Veterans shelter in the Northeast Georgia area. We are a Christian Ministry that helps about 300 people a year.