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Vets Face Different Challenges
By Juliet Werner
When Pat Toro returned to Ridgewood from Vietnam, he thought he was
home free. He found work as a detective and threw himself into law
enforcement. Signs of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder surfaced, but
he felt they were par for the course.
“I got out, had nightmares, dreams, like all of us did,”
Toro said. “The fact that we weren’t appreciated made
it even worse.”
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Sen. Frank Padavan joined members of
the Vietnam Veterans of America, Chapter 32, at their 25th Anniversary
Dinner Dance, during which he honored Chapter President Pastor
Toro, Jr. as an inductee into the New York State Senate Veterans
Virtual Hall of Fame.
1st
Lt. Pete Hegseth of the Army National Guard, a veteran of the
War in Iraq (r.) joins Sgt. Melissa Weaver of the Army National
Guard (l.) and Korean War veteran / state Sen. Serphin Maltese
at PS 56 to talk about veterans.
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Toro
retired in 1991, settling in residential Forest Hills, but the calm
was short-lived.
“Eight or nine years ago the dreams came back,” he said.
“For no apparent reason.”
Counseling helped, but connecting with the Vietnam Veterans of America
helped more. Two years after joining, Toro was elected Chapter 32
president and the nightmares faded.
“Every now and then I’ll have flashbacks,” Toro
confessed. He still struggles when watching his favorite TV show “JAG.”
“My wife used to ask me ‘why do you watch it,’”
Toro said. His only answer for her: “I was drawn to it.”
The
Disenfranchised
Whitestone resident Michael Porcaro serves on the board of directors
of Chapter 32 located in Glendale. Like Toro, he wasn’t welcomed
home from Vietnam a hero. At the airport, a traveler spotted his uniform
and asked if he was returning from Vietnam. When Porcaro said yes,
he was told, “Too bad, you should’ve died.”
The established Veteran organizations only heightened alienation.
“The old guard organizations didn’t want Vietnam vets,”
Porcaro said. “We were considered drug addicts.”
In 1978, Congress chartered the Vietnam Veterans of America. The organization’s
current leadership has roots in Queens; national president John Rowan
served as Chapter 32 president. Porcaro, who joined in 2004, said
the VVA provides a safe space.
“[Vets will] open up to other vets, but not to family, close
friends, not even to his wife and kids,” he said. “There’s
a certain mindset – if you didn’t experience it you can’t
understand.”
Treating
The Injured
The VVA has made great strides in securing appropriate medical care.
“Diabetes, prostate cancer – it’s assumed to be
Agent Orange-related, so you don’t have to go to VA and fight
for the claim,” Porcaro said.
Here in New York, VVA has worked to save the VA Medical Center Manhattan
and Fort Hamilton Medical Center in Brooklyn.
“This ain’t Kansas; not everybody has a car,” Porcaro
said. “In Kansas, the VA is only 40 miles away. In NYC if it’s
one mile away it’s out of reach of many people.”
Improved medical care in Iraq only puts a strain on the medical services
at home.
“People that in Vietnam certainly would have died are surviving
with catastrophic brain injuries,” Porcaro said. “They’re
going to require long term care.”
According to November’s National Alliance to End Homelessness
Veterans Report, more than 6,000 city veterans are homeless. Statistically
speaking, 1 in 4 homeless New Yorkers is a veteran, and the majority
can be found in Queens.
VVA’s founding principle, “Never again shall one generation
of veterans abandon another,” was the impetus behind forming
the Veterans of Modern Warfare this past year. Porcaro sees the need
for generation-specific organizations and will serve as Queens VMW
president.
“A World War II vet is in his late 80s or 90s – it’s
not the same,” he said. “They did not experience guerilla
warfare. They did not experience the type of irregular warfare that
we experienced in Vietnam. Desert Storm was much closer to WWII experience.”
Porcaro has firsthand knowledge; he served in both Vietnam and Desert
Storm.
The
Other Forgotten Vets
“It was time specific,” Porcaro said of the first Gulf
War. “You could watch the surrender ceremony. There was no surrender
ceremony [in Vietnam] and there’ll be no surrender ceremony
in Iraq and Afghanistan.”
Although Porcaro sees similarities between the Vietnam, Iraq and Afghanistan
experience, he said medical needs differ; Vets coming home today have
been exposed to depleted uranium and frequently suffer from traumatic
brain injury. In addition, the rate at which troops are now called
back into duty has changed.
“When I was in the regular Air Force if you served a combat
tour in Vietnam you could expect to not involuntarily to go back in
five years – they’re going back in 10 months,” Porcaro
said. “People say we would’ve mutinied, but we would’ve
done the same thing: complained about it, sucked it up and gone ahead
with it.”
Men and women who fought in any American war since Aug. 2, 1990 are
invited to join VMW.
“We have every part of the infrastructure to succeed,”
Porcaro said. “What we need is members.”
In trying to get the word out, Porcaro is running into well-anticipated
obstacles.
“When a combat veteran returns to civilian life they want nothing
to do with organizations,” Porcaro said. “They’re
looking to forget some of the bad memories, looking to get a job,
raise a family and get on with their lives. You need like 10 years
to pass by.”
VMW is therefore getting a greater response from Desert Storm vets
like Douglass Barry of Bayside. But Barry is unique in that he joined
another organization, Veterans of Foreign Wars, as soon as he returned
home.
“I wasn’t disgruntled,” Barry said. “One of
the mistakes that the kids coming back make is that some of them have
anger toward the government because of the reasons they were sent.
These people need to realize that VMW and VFW are not government organizations.”
Lost
Among The Casualties
Barry has found solace in organizations, but feels forgotten by his
hometown.
“I march in the Veteran Day Parade every year,” he said.
“There are 8 million people in the City and 20,000 people out
in the streets. In this city whatever’s popular at the time
is what we do. Everyone had the ribbons on their cars, and after we
went into Iraq every single person had it on their car because it
was in thing to do. It just fades out.”
Barry blames politicians for abandoning the cause.
“It’s not popular so the public isn’t paying any
interest,” he said. “I think that’s disgusting.”
Toro doesn’t link Iraq to Vietnam in terms of public approval.
“The comparison is very, very slim,” Toro said. “It
might be an unpopular war in some degrees, but not to the degree when
we were in the war. The American people have learned – most
of them anyway – though we may be at war and there may be a
faction of people who feel the war is not necessary, they don’t
take it out on the soldiers.”
Occasionally, the parades and accolades ignite in Toro a sense of
jealousy.
“You wish that you were treated that way when you got back,”
he said. “But it’s good because you realize all the fighting
that you’ve done since you got back has accomplished that.”
Toro recently emerged victorious from a fight to gain approval for
a Queens Vietnam War Memorial at the former Keyspan gas tanks site
in Elmhurst. Fundraising starts in 2008 for the memorial set to honor
the 450 Queens men and women who gave their lives. That figure doesn’t
include veterans who died of health complications.
“You don’t know who you’re gonna be two, three years
from now,” Toro said. “I was diagnosed as diabetic seven
years ago. I had been back from Vietnam 30 years.”
Mental health behaves unpredictably, as well.
“If I could, I’d like to say – listen you don’t
know what’s coming up,” Porcaro said. “We’ve
been there. Come in and talk to us about some of the feelings you’re
thinking about. Don’t wait 10 years. Don’t wait until
your second marriage is in trouble. Don’t wait until you’ve
lost your third job. Talk about it now.”
Toro waited. Waited until he was retired and the dreams came back.
He now spends every day advocating for veterans.
“My wife looks at me like I’m nuts. I didn’t work
this hard when I was getting paid for it,” he said. “But
as long as I can put my head on my pillow and feel that I’ve
helped someone, I’ll continue to do it. It’s a therapy
for me too.”
For more information on VVA or VMW call (718) 830 -0037.