July 27, 1969

Dear my lovely Roxy Foxx,

Today was overwhelming at the outpost. We spent the entire night fighting off the approaching enemy advancing our position. My photo of you in my pocket keeps me strong and even though we are miles apart, you are always with me. The days of the war are ongoing with being cooped up in the bunker. As we await our orders each day, we hear the war will end soon.

Our home front has become restless. The endless protests litter our streets as monuments collapse and fall. Our love will never fall. We are together as one unified soul under the milky way at night. We meet each other under our tree and collect our faith we will meet again when I return home.

I want you to know the world is my ocean of calming tide when you are in my arms. I know how happy we are when we are in communion with each other in meditation. Sadly, the bombs send shock waves through the jungle and my hand shakes when I write to you. My determination to return home to you holds my convictions true to our love.

The streetlights in America are growing dim with protests from what I hear. How are you holding up? I pray every time I see your pretty face in your picture you are safe. You will always be safe in my arms. Being a soldier on the frontline leaves a lasting imprint on humanity. Right now, we return home to our Capitol filled with vandalized monuments and are not feeling loved. We get spit on at airports and shunned at the coffee shop.

None of that matters to me. All that matters is that we meet each other each day in gratitude and rest assured that when the war is over, we will be together forever. I hope you will write to me soon. I adore your love letters and am determined to survive this war to see you again. May you always be right here in my arms until then. You are my soul-searching purpose to be a better man each day. We are the future of humanity. Our mission is to radiate love and light in times of peril and hate. I love you times Brazilian.

Love,
Cpl. Bob Cobb

You wake up every day shrouded by a circle of demons. The sole mission of those demons is to repel the love of family. Post-traumatic stress disorder winds you up like a rubber band on the verge of slapping your caretakers to prevent them from getting close. The fast run of hypervigilance races through words spoken like a breath of a tornado. Nobody understands.

The Reckoning
Recalling events from the past never leave. What would I have done different? Nothing. The reckoning is your narrative. Your explosive anger overwhelms you. Your crux is the confusion. Standing in line in the grocery store can be a chore. The hurt, the shame and all the pain overwhelmingly track your every thought. You calculate each move in the grocery store, you realize you dropped your credit card on the floor. You look for the door. Fear and Loathing send you racing to the car. You drive away far until the surge of racing thoughts disappear.

The Veterans Crisis Line is there to ease the pain. No more fear. No more loathing.

The Fear Follows You Like Wolves
The third world follows you wherever you go. The sounds of burning children are the only thing you know. The morning you woke up and the minute the 11th hour began, was the day you realize you should’ve run. Will I ever return the man I was before? Or will I run like a child down a haunted corridor? The wolves greet you in your sleep. The fear is the way they trap you to avoid the help you must seek. The wolves are night terrors who lock you behind closed doors. The fear snares you to sedate with painkillers all the more. The VA leaves you at death’s door.

The Loathing Defines Your Trauma
As you leave many lives in despair—your cold-hearted coping teaches people you do not care. You watched many lives consumed by death. You know only one thing—we all have one last breath. Trauma never heals when the heart never feels. Hurt, shame and guilt are the products of the loathe. Be still, the world develops your life into becoming a wolf. The oath you swore disappears. The grief you cause those who love now becomes their fear. You are their first thought when they swallow all their tears. You leave them like a phantom who haunted them for years.

Truth of Trauma
The truth is out there if you are willing to take a hand. The PTSD Coach App will help you understand. The Veterans Crisis Line will teach you how to treat your fears. No more thoughts of suicide the loathing will disappear. The truth of trauma comes the minute you understand, help starts with courage when you ask someone to lead you to promised land. Trauma is the source of the 22. I was once like you. Trust is the last resort—the help will see you through.