Jim Strickland

I'm a veteran. I'm a lot of other things too. But like so many of us, my 3 years in the Army may have been the defining point in my life. The military experience is intense beyond the comprehension of those who don't participate.

If I have to explain it to you, you won't get it.

I was a teenager with no direction. Within months of joining the Army, I was a responsible young man working alongside serious men and women in real operating rooms in a real hospital doing a deadly serious job. And doing it very well, I'm proud to tell you.

I worked hard to earn the respect of those physicians and surgeons and nurses and peers who trusted me to care for their sickest patients.

I made E-5 at the 98th General Hospital at Neubrucke-Nahe in the Federal Republic of West Germany.

I'm a USMC brat. My dad is an Iwo Jima survivor as well as a Korean War veteran. He spent 20 in, retired at age 36 as an E-9 and earned his Purple Hearts the hard way. I didn't really understand the role of civilians until he retired and we lived away from the constant drone of cadence at one place or another. I was in high school by then.

My stepson has earned his CIB. Grandpa was American Expeditionary Forces to France in WWI.

My closest friend has non-Hodkins lymphoma, a cancer ceded by the DVA to be related somehow to his exposure to Agent Orange as a USMC engineer during his stay in Vietnam. He's asked me to eulogize him and we've gone over the arrangements and how I may be able to best help his widow and his son.

I have a good understanding of military and veteran life.

I like veterans. If you haven't donned the uniform, you can't be a veteran. It's a most exclusive club, you can't pay a membership fee, you can only join by completing a single action; You must receive an honorable discharge from a branch of the American military. (OK, OK...other than dishonorable, I won't quibble.)

I was injured in the Army. It was a minor thing then, those aching joints. But those joints ached beyond soreness, there was long lasting injury. As time marched on as it inevitably will, the pain interfered with my life, my work, my friends and family.

I applied for benefits and health care through my VA. I received just 1/2 of my benefits that I knew I deserved and the health care was atrocious. To my mind, the gauntlet had dropped and my lifelong battle with VA was on.

Over the next 30 years I fought with VA to set the record straight. Finally, in 2006, someone took time to read the record as it should have been done in 1971 and awarded me my earned benefits.

I can't recall ever thinking about the money side of the benefit. Sure, the extra money was handy but I never filed thinking to get more...until I was finally forced out of work by my disability. By then, you can bet the money became important.

Prior to that it was the principle. I was hurt in the Army doing things I would not have been asked to do if I weren't a soldier. When that happens, the VA is supposed to step in to help. In my case, like so many others, my VA looked at me and told me I was a liar. Although the black and white documentation was there in my record, the VA denied it existed.

The feeling of receiving a denial letter is one of breathless exasperation rippled with furious anger. My case wasn't weak, it was all right there. I had the SMR, the NCO/Medic Buddy Letter, the civilian medical record...soup to nuts.

I also had a swift and sure denial of my complete benefits package.

I started fighting. I gave up. I fought again. I appealed. I gave up in disgust again. I allowed a Veterans Service Organization to misrepresent me for decades and in desperation, I finally fired them and took over my own claim.

I won.

I'm still fighting and I'm still winning. Thanks to the wonderful generosity of hard working editors who have given me bandwidth on the Internet and black and white print in a newspaper, I've been able to share my experiences to help other veterans learn what to do and what to expect while coping with their claim.

It's also necessary to laud these editors for their courage in allowing me to speak freely. My opinions are often written to grate the nerves of others and grate on them I have. Larry or Clairice could have turned me off but instead chose the path of allowing the veteran to access the facts, unpleasant though they may be.

I hope to use this Knol, along with my writings on http://vawatchdog.org and The Veterans Voice to allow other veterans to travel a smoother path than mine.

Good luck.