I learned to numb myself to the war . . .

Fourteen years after combat in Vietnam, Fred Pomeroy was diagnosed as having a post-traumatic stress disorder. Medical treatment and counseling helped him deal with the dreams, flashbacks and alcoholism that disrupted his life. Pomeroy is working his way back to a productive life with the help of other Vietnam veterans. He lives in Woodland Hills.

I finished advanced infantry training, went home for a 30-day leave, and then we were flown to Vietnam. I remember when they first opened up the jet and we were coming out of the pressurized cabin. It was nighttime, and you could feel the heat. And the smell. It was a damp, musty smell. The country, the way it smelled, you just never forgot.

We were issued jungle gear and were going through training at the replacement center. They’re taking you through little mock villages and running over booby traps and making you dive for cover when the sirens go off.

One night in the barracks, the sirens went off and I just said, “Screw it, I’ll act like it’s not going on.” So I just lay there as everyone else ran out to the bunker. Then I heard it, this thing coming in. It sounded like a locomotive. When I heard the explosion I rolled off my bunk. I heard the shrapnel rip through the building. One rocket landed 10 feet from the door where these guys were coming out. I just remember the screaming. Somebody was screaming in mortal terror; he was screaming for his mother. Then the screaming stopped. They were yelling for medics from all different directions.

I grabbed my pants and ran out and jumped in the bunker. It was night and I couldn’t see anybody. I jumped in and landed right on top of this guy. He’s kind of groaning and I think, “Maybe I hurt this guy.” He starts vomiting, and I’m pushing him away. I didn’t want that sticky slime all over me. And while I’m pushing him away, he dies, you know, he just dies. He’d been hit in the back and his lungs filled with blood, and he was spitting blood and it just covered me. I didn’t know it was real, it happened so fast. We had been in Vietnam 10 days.

That was my first encounter, and it affected me for the rest of my tour. Because I landed on top of this guy when I jumped into the hole, for years I thought maybe I had been responsible.

A similar incident happened a couple of months later. I volunteered to be a radio operator, so I found myself up in the bush with this radio that was bigger than I was. One night we got hit by friendly fire. Somebody screwed up with the artillery. This other radio operator got hit, and he was 20 feet away from me. I was waiting for him to wake me up. I was supposed to replace him. I sat there and watched him die. I never even knew his name. I flashed back to that other incident, and I stuffed it. I just stuffed it inside. I refused to think about it. I learned to numb myself to the war, which caused me a lot problems when I got home.

From the time I joined the Army, I was this gung-ho, All-American soldier, but when I got home I did a complete 180-degree turn. The Vietnam experience really screwed up something. I went through a lot of flashbacks, a lot of recurring dreams, and I would smell blood on my hands.

When I got out of the military, I didn’t associate with people. My wife found me and married me, and my world became my wife and my two kids. Then when I lost that, I had nothing. That just snapped me. I went over the thin line. I lost reality.

I spent two years living in a tent in the mountains cutting firewood. I thought I was hiding from the world, but I was hiding from myself. Anyway, I came down one day, Dec. 4, 1984, and was hospitalized for six months. The dreams I’d been having weren’t of ‘Nam, but they were. It was sitting in front of me all the time, but I completely suppressed it.

Today it’s a lot different. I’ve been sober 16 months, and I haven’t had a ‘Nam dream in a year. I’m working on a new future. I’m a truck driver, and I’m trying to get my Class 1 license.

Today I’m 38. Two years ago I was 20 years old. Now I’m realizing, “Hey ol’ Fred, you’ve got to get busy because you’re almost 40.” I’m looking forward to it. I’ve got a good outlook on life.