VIETNAM VETERAN SAMPLE OF POINTMAN STRESSOR LETTER

LIFE BEFORE MILITARY SERVICE

Growing up on the South side of Chicago was pretty tough. Crime was rampant, drugs
were on every street corner, illiteracy seemed a way of life, and mother nature was a
constant reminder of just how brutal life could be. Along with eight brothers and sisters,
even getting basic essentials was an everyday challenge. My mother worked four jobs
just to keep a roof over our heads. Since my mother worked so much, I hardly ever saw
her. My oldest sister assumed the duties of parent for me and my brothers and
sisters.
When I was having problems in junior high school, I remember it was my oldest sister
who attended the parent-teacher conferences. When I got my report cards, I always
showed it to my oldest sister. She never gave me any positive feedback, the report card
for her was a way to verify that I was going to school.
Getting good grades was never a problem. I never studied much, but I had a very good
memory. In high school, I was able to memorize all of the words and definitions of the
entire school dictionary. I was very proud of that. By the time I was in the eleventh
grade, my mothers health started to fade. She was unable to work due to severe
arthritis. Years of cleaning toilet seats and mopping floors took their toll. To help the
family, I started working in a nearby diner. I got a job washing dishes. My oldest sister
always told me to work hard. I guess it sunk in, because I worked at the diner every
chance I got, and I worked until the place closed regardless of the time I got
there.
I was not earning enough money washing dishes to really support my family. I started
consoling in friends for help. A friend of a friend informed me that I could make a lot of
money by doing business on the street. I knew what that meant. Out of desperation I
thought I would give it a try. My plan was to work on the street and wash dishes. If my
friend was right, I could soon give up washing dishes and make a lot of money on the
street. I was hoping I would make a lot of money quickly, put the money in the bank,
then move on to a legitimate job.
My friend was right. I made lots of money, quickly and easily. As a teenager, when you
are making $10,000 - $15,000 per month, you want more. The money I was earning
helped my family and helped me live a lifestyle I only saw in the movies. I had a brand
new Cadillac, fine clothes, expensive jewelry, and moved my family away from the
South side of Chicago. My oldest sister knew I was making dirty money, but she never
said a word to me about it. My brothers and sisters saw me as a hero. They never
asked where I got the money either.
I was good at selling and manipulating people for my own personal gain. I soon
dropped out of high school to pursue the dream of making more money.

Then it all ended. Ill never forget that day. On May 30, 1966, the mail came early that
day. Typically, I did not get mail, but that day I had a letter from the U.S.
Government. Instinctively I knew what it was my draft notice.
LIFE DURING MILITARY SERVICE
In July 1966, I reported to the local MEPS station and enlisted in the U.S. Army. I was
in conflict from the moment I signed my name. On one hand I saw the Army as a way of
living a clean lifestyle. On the other hand, I missed the excitement and money of the
streets.
Basic training was harder than what my friends told me. The physical training was a
piece of cake. Following directives from angry drill sergeants was hard. For the most
part, I was being yelled at on a daily basis. I had trouble waking up in the morning. I
had trouble cleaning. I had trouble with the drill sergeants telling me what to eat and
how much. All my life I had been my own drill sergeant, now I had these army grunts
telling what to do and how to do it. That was a huge adjustment for me. To keep from
getting in trouble I made it a game. I recruited a couple of guys I knew from the streets
to look after my things. I hired them as my personal assistances. Because of my
reputation in South Chicago I had no problem getting them to do what I
wanted.
After basic training I was sent to Vietnam immediately. Assigned to a forward base unit
in DaNang, I quickly learned the ropes. Vietnam was a lot different from what I had
been briefed on. All the military protocol was out the window. It was a free-for-all
existence. I was sure I could adapt to that lifestyle very quickly, and I was right. In no
time at all I was running a gambling hall behind the scenes. All of the guys knew to
come see me if they wanted a chance a making some extra loot. I liked DaNang. I was
making money, I had girls, and I was popular with the guys. It was like a vacation until I
got called to the field.
My first impulse was to get someone to take my place, I had a gambling hall to run. At
the same time, I figured I would increase my reputation and respect by going out on
search and destroy missions.
On November 3, 1966, my unit commander asked me to lead a group of 17 guys on a
mission North of DaNang. I was glad he asked me. I knew I could lead, but I informed
the commander that I had to handpick who I wanted. He agreed. I selected a good
combination of city kids and country boys. These were the survivors. I didnt want any
privileged punks going out in the jungle with me.
That night, while digging in to rest we got ambushed. All day my instincts told me we
were being followed. That was the last time I ignored my intuition.

The NVA had us surrounded. We were being bombarded with small arms fire, rockets,
and grenades. However, my guys were armed, ready, and willing to fight. Just as I
hoped, most seemed to enjoy the experience. Not sure how many enemy soldiers had
us surrounded, but I can say that my guys killed 36 enemy troops that night. It was a
blood bath. The kills came so easy it was like my guys were shooting cans at an
arcade.
At sunrise we ran across a few dead NVA troops. Most were young boys. We were
young, but these were little kids. One kid, probably about 13 or 14 was missing the top
half of his skull. His brain was bulging and swollen out of his skull. It was a horrible
sight. Another NVA kid was lying face up with his entrails exposed. There were a few
more bodies laying around. We left them there and moved on. Luckily, none of my
guys were hurt.
Two days later while heading back to the base my guys and I entered a small
village. Hungry, thirsty, and tired, we decided to camp out there for the night. The local
villagers did not want us to stay. Even though we could not communicate with them, I
could sense some degree of urgency from the villagers. My instincts told me they were
trying to warn us. My instincts were right.
Around dusk, I noticed that all of the villagers were disappearing. I wasnt sure where
they were going, but I had my guys take cover. Even though it seemed like an eternity,
about two hours after taking cover a small band of NVA troops entered the village. One
of my country boys, who had sniper training picked off three NVA troops right away. The
rest of the NVA troops scattered in the jungle. We never did see them again.
After the shootings lots of villagers came from out of hiding. They unclothed the three
dead NVA troops, tied ropes around their necks and hoisted them up a tree. The scene
was gruesome.
The remainder of my tour in Vietnam involved briefing troops about the dangers of
search and destroy missions and running my gambling hall. All of the brass knew what I
was doing was wrong, but they seemed to condone it because it helped with
morale.
LIFE AFTER TRAUMATIC EVENT
I didnt realize it right away, however, after a year or two from discharging from the Army,
it became apparent that my time in uniform and in Vietnam changed how I saw the
world. When I was in Vietnam my senses operated at maximum capacity and
effectiveness. I was always on guard. My family and friends tell me that I still act like I
am in Vietnam. When we go out to eat I only sit in restaurants with my back to the
wall. If I cant see everything in front of me, then I dont eat there. If a restaurant is
crowded, I will not eat there. I cant stand the crowds, they make me want to fight
somebody.

Also, every now and then I will have nightmares about Vietnam crap. Not the firefight I
was involved in, but general war scenes. Especially the faces of NVA soldiers.
My family and friends tell me that I seem cold and distant. They tell me all the time that
I act like Im afraid to get close to people. My three ex-wives used to tell me all the time
that I was incapable of deep feelings toward them.
Every boss I ever had reminded me of those drill sergeants in basic training. They all
yelled at me, treated with disrespect, tried to boss me around, and most seemed
incompetent. When I worked as a butcher at a local supermarket, one boss fired me
because I ran a football parlay. I made lots of money running that parlay and morale
was never higher at the supermarket. But he didnt see it that way. For whatever
reason, I have never been able to hold down a legitimate job for more than a
year. Since discharging from the army I have had over 50 jobs.
Lastly, my life after Vietnam has been so screwed up that I get really down
sometimes. I have been known to stay in bed for weeks. Too tired to move and too
angry to try. I look like I have anorexia nervosa because I have lost close to a hundred
pounds. I dont eat much anymore. I just dont seem to be hungry anymore. I am not
entirely sure what happened to me in Vietnam, but I am sure something affected me
that altered my potential.

SAMPLE STRESSOR LETTER

A Stressor Letter is used by Veterans Affairs (VA) raters to identify potential traumatic
events that may have invoked Posttraumatic Stressor Disorder(PTSD) symptoms in
combat veterans. The Stressor Letter consist of three vital parts: 1. Life before military
service; 2. Life during military service (to include traumatic event(s); and 3. Life after
traumatic event(s).
The Example Stressor Letter below has been used by thousands of veterans as
supportive evidence for their PTSD claim. Use it for yours (modify as needed).
LIFE BEFORE MILITARY SERVICE
I was born on March 10, 1949, in Columbus, Ohio. I am the second of four children
born to my biological parents. My childhood seemed normal and carefree to me. In
elementary school I performed well academically, joined a few school clubs, and
participated in the Boy Scouts. I had a few close friends during that time, and we spent
much of our time playing many different sports. I also had a few hobbies during those
formative years. For instance, I collected baseball cards, and toy soldiers. I was never
sick, never had any broken bones, and was pretty much healthy. I remember my
mother being very protective of me. She always made sure I was safe and not
surrounded by trouble. It all seemed pretty normal to me.
During high school I was actively involved in athletics. Football, baseball and basketball
consumed a lot of my time. I also discovered girls, and along with my friends we would
do a lot in order to impress them. For example, when I got my drivers license I would
borrow my parents car so that I could cruise the neighborhood so that the girls would
see me driving. Also, during this time I expressed a lot of interest in the Armed Forces,
especially the Marine Corps. I loved the uniforms and the girls seemed to like them as
well. I was young and impressionable. My thinking was at the time, if I could join the
Marine Corps it would be easy to capture girls. They seemed to like the uniform a
lot. My senior year in high school I met with a Marine Corps recruiter who pointed out
all of the positive aspects of the Marine Corps. I was hooked. When I graduated from
high school in May of 1967, I joined the Marine Corps two months later.
LIFE DURING MILITARY SERVICE
In August 1967, I enlisted in the U.S. Marine Corps as a means of seeking gainful
employment, fighting for my country, and impressing the girls. I completed boot camp at
Camp Lejeune, N.C. I thought boot camp was pretty easy. I was always physically fit,
did well academically in school, so boot camp was easier than I anticipated. I made
squad leader the first week I was there. After boot camp I attended Advanced Infantry
Training (AIT). After six weeks of AIT I was a lean mean fighting machine. I was ready
for anything. After AIT, I got orders to Vietnam. I arrived in Vietnam in January
1968. When I got there my initial impression was complete shock. The place smelled
bad, looked bad, and seemed dirty. After processing in, I was assigned to 1/9th Marines,

3rd Marine Division. As soon as I got settled in a grisly old gunnery sergeant made it a
point to tell me I would never see the states again. I didnt let him know at the time, but
that scared the heck out of me. After only two weeks in country I witnessed the horrors
of war.
January 1968, while serving guard duty, my forward base camp was mortared by the
North Vietnamese Army (NVA). Mortars were dropping in everywhere. The sound was
loud and the smell was horrible. A machine gunner about 10 yards away from me was
hit on the left shoulder. The mortar blew off the entire left side of his body. I tried to
administer first aid, but he died almost immediately. After the mortar attack stopped, I
remember sitting in the bunker shaking badly for about 30 minutes. I couldnt get the
images out of my head of seeing my comrades killed.
February 1968, during a search and destroy mission in the jungle my unit came across
three dead American soldiers. They were nailed to a tree, their ears had been cut off,
and all of them had mud stuffed down their throats. The sight was horrible. We took
them down and properly bagged them up and sent them to the morgue. The smell of
their rotting flesh was awful. I didnt sleep well for three weeks after that incident.
April 1968, during a search and destroy mission my unit was involved in a very intense
firefight. We lost two guys in our unit. I just ended my pointman duties when the
firefight started. The guy that replaced me was hit in the face by a few rounds. He died
instantly. Another guy was hit in the chest and died as well. Several other members of
our unit were wounded pretty bad. Im not sure how I survived, but I did. In fact, I didnt
get a scratch. But, I was terrified. I had a few horrible dreams about the incident that
night and days later. Of course, being the Marine I thought I was, I didnt tell anyone.
July 1968, me and my unit went on night patrol duty near a delta outside of Da
Nang. Two hours into our patrol we ran into a huge platoon of NVA troops. A firefight
ensued. The fighting was intense. We lost five guys in my unit and several others were
injured badly. Again, I escaped with only a bruise on my left thigh. This firefight scared
me the most. It was dark, and all you could see were tracers from machine guns. I was
sure one of those bullets had my name on it.
After that incident, the remainder of my tour was uneventful. I carried out other seek &
destroy missions against enemy troops, but saw no action. During the seek & destroy
missions, I enthusiastically carried out my duties as a pointman, and where ever else I
was assigned. I served in the Vietnam theatre of operations for 13 months. During my
combat duty in Vietnam, I lost many close war buddies, and witnessed many American
soldiers die in major firefights with Viet Cong and North Vietnamese Army (NVA)
troops. As a result, I struggled daily from survivors guilt. My buddies died in combat
and I, for the most part, incurred no major injuries. I experienced many life-threatening
battle situations, and egregious life-sustaining scenarios while in the combat zone of
Vietnam. I think about those events constantly.

LIFE SINCE THE TRAUMATIC EVENT(S)

When I left Vietnam and flew back to the states I remember being relieved and at the
same time depressed and angry. I was glad to leave combat, where I lost
many buddies and saw horrible things that no one should be subjected to. I was
extremely sad as well. I was sad that some of my buddies would never be returning to
their families, and I was really sad knowing that I was leaving some of my buddies in
harms way. When I got back to the states I was pissed. People called me a baby killer,
war monger, and death machine. People who knew nothing about the war thought I
was an animal and it made me very angry.
As a result, I found that I could not tolerate being around people, not even my
family. Strangers who knew I served my country treated me with disdain. My family
treated me like I had a disease. They were afraid to talk to me, and when they did
muster up the courage to talk to me they always seemed to say the wrong thing. I go to
bed angry and afraid most nights. Angry that my military experience in Vietnam has
caused many problems for me. And afraid to go to sleep because the nightmares of
Vietnam scare me badly. My brain cannot tell fact from fiction and when I have dreams
about Vietnam its like I am re-living those horrible firefights I used to have in
Vietnam. Daily, I find myself checking my windows, my door locks, and checking under
my bed for intruders. I learned those skills in the Marine Corps, but my third wife seems
to think I have lost my mind. She calls me paranoid.
Also, since I separated from the Marine Corps I have had a very difficult time sustaining
employment. I first worked for the police department, but I was let go because my
supervisor thought I was trigger happy. I later worked for many small security guard
firms, but all of them let me go. They said I had a temper that was out of control and
that I was going to hurt someone. To earn a living I sold cars for many different
dealerships. I was fired from every place I worked. The sales managers would piss me
off. On one occasion, a sales manager refused to pay me and the next thing I knew I
was being pulled off of the guy. I must have snapped, because I do not remember
attacking him. I realized after working for automobile dealerships for more than a
decade, I had to find something that I could do on my own. Since I knew the car
business pretty well, I decided to open a small note lot. That didnt last very long. The
customers would make so angry that I could not sleep at night. I have been in a
downward spiral of despair ever since.
I went to the VA to seek help for my mental anguish. I was informed that I may have
PTSD. The psychological impact of multiple war experiences may have led to the many
negative psychological issues and cognitive distortions that I have struggled with since
departing Vietnam. I currently participate in a combat PTSD group at my local Vet
Center, and I take many medications to help with my anxiety, depression, and high
blood pressure.

AFGHANISTAN VETERAN SAMPLE STRESSOR LETTER

LIFE BEFORE MILITARY SERVICE
Growing up in Rantoul, Illinois, life was pretty nice. The long cold winters and the short
summers made for a great place to grow up. Like most guys in Rantoul, I had dreams
of serving my country. Most of what I learned about the military started in elementary
school.
When I was in the fourth grade, my teacher, Mr. Wilburn, who was a veteran of the U.S.
Army always spoke about his days in the Army. He was my inspiration for joining the
Army. He made the Army sound like it was the greatest place in the world. His stories
about military duty, firefights, marching, and wearing his uniform made me want to join
right away.
When I was in high school I joined my high schools JROTC unit. By my senior year, I
made it to the rank of Sergeant Major. When I wore my uniform I felt like a King. The
kids in school didnt really understand what JROTC stood for, but I knew. Mr. Wilburn
said that people need to understand that when a soldier wears the uniform he
represents an entire Nation. I always tried to remember that when I wore my uniform for
JROTC functions.
LIFE DURING MILITARY SERVICE
As soon as I graduated from high school I joined the Army. Boot camp was easy for
me. I knew how to march, I knew how to wear the uniform, I knew about military
command and structure, and I always stayed fit. My four years in JROTC helped me a
lot. My drill sergeant promoted me to squad leader, then platoon leader. My troops
looked toward me for leadership.
After boot camp I was sent to AIT. In AIT I shined. I was quickly promoted to platoon
leader. I won awards for marksmanship, leadership, and physical fitness. After AIT I
was sent to my first installation.
When I arrived at Fort Benning I was as they say sharp as a tac. Somehow, my
command sergeant knew about my accomplishments in AIT and he told me from the
very beginning, I expect a lot out of you. I took that to heart.
After six months at Ft. Benning, my unit received orders to Afghanistan. So, on March
10, 2004, I flew to Afghanistan with my unit. We were briefed that we had to help
support convoy units through the mountains. No problem. I was ready and so was my
unit. For several months we guarded supply convoys and didnt see any enemy troops
or action. That all changed in October.

On October 5, 2004, while traveling North to Kabol, my unit came across several
IEDs. One of the fuel trucks we guarded ran over an IED an exploded. Everyone in the
truck was killed. Enemy troops bombarded us with fire from all directions. I was never
angrier in my life. My buddies were killed instantly by enemy troops I wanted to
kill.
On October 12, 2004, I was awakened at 5:26 A.M. to the sound of loud bangs. We
were being bombed by insurgents. Small RPGs were landing all around us. I took
cover in a nearby trench. I remember thinking to myself, There is no way that my life is
going to end like this. After 5 minutes the bombing was over. As we surveyed the
grounds we came across several of our guys who had been hit. Two guys were killed
and 12 others were badly injured.
Several months went by before we had any problems. On February 16, 2005, my unit
was traveling to Kabol again. On the way, we ran over several IEDs. My Humvee took
a direct hit. I was so angry that my truck was hit that I shot my M-16 randomly in the air
and ran off tons of rounds before I realized someone was yelling at me to stop. The
driver of my Humvee was killed. I was so pissed that I ran toward the mountains
screaming and firing my M-16. I was looking for insurgents. I wanted to kill the
scumbags that buried the IED in our path. When I ran out of bullets I walked back to the
wreckage, I didnt realize it at the time, but I had run a long way, I was more than a mile
from where we were hit.
Unfortunately, on February 21, 2005, we were attacked by mountain insurgents while
traveling through a gorge. Bullets and small rockets were coming in from the West. We
all took cover behind our vehicles. Still fresh in my mind was my buddy who was killed
by an IED a few days ago. Just thinking about it put me in a rage. I decided right there I
was going to take someone out to avenge my buddys death. Without orders, I lowcrawled to a nearby boulder, and then another, and another. Within minutes, I could see
three insurgents firing at my unit. They were tucked in behind a huge rock
formation. Seeing them wrapped up in dirty sheets and with their dusty faces made me
angrier than I have ever been. The anger filled me with tons of adrenaline. Nothing
was going to stop me from getting to those creeps.
Fueled by the memory of my buddy and the guys in the fuel truck, I gripped my M-16
tightly, and grabbed a grenade. The creeps were about 80 yards from me. While doing
grenade training back in the States I was never able to throw a grenade more than 40
yards with any accuracy. That day, my grenade landed perfectly in the middle of the
three insurgents. The excitement of a direct hit motivated me to get closer and admire
my work. As I approached the insurgents I could see that they were only stunned, not
dead. So I got closer, opened up a blistering round of bullets right in their bodies. I
loved it, but it wasnt enough. I decided to obliterate these bums. With the trigger of my
M-16 jammed back as far as it could go I riddled the heads of these bums with
bullets. Their heads exploded open like wet paper bags.

Jubilant and proud, I slowly walked back to my unit. My heart was pounding with
excitement. I couldnt wait to share what I did with my guys. As I got closer to my unit, I
could see my commander running toward me. I could see from the language of his run
that he was not happy. My proud moment instantly turned to uncontrollable rage. I
picked up my pace and ran toward him. We collided. He was yelling at me, and to this
day I had no idea what he was saying. I just started punching him in the face.
When we got back to the base I felt exhausted. I went to my corner of our tent, laid
down on my cot and fell asleep. Next thing I knew I was being handcuffed by
MPs. They didnt say a word to me. I was taken to a tent filled with a bunch of
officers. I was told to sit down in front of them. I could feel myself getting irritated by
the whole event. I wasnt listening to anything they had to say, but I knew they were
mad with me for taking out those insurgents. I was told to pack up my things, they were
sending me back to the States.
When I got back to Ft. Benning I was quickly kicked out of the Army and given a bad
conduct discharge. Being kicked out of the Army placed a heavy burden on me. I felt
like I let everybody down, especially Mr. Wilburn.
LIFE AFTER MILITARY SERVICE
I was planning on making the military a career. I loved being in the Army. I have no
regrets about anything I did. I think the guys I protected would thank me if they had a
chance. At the same time, my experiences in Afghanistan and getting a bad conduct
discharge changed me forever.
I returned to Rantoul to look for a job. I looked everywhere. I looked for two months
with no luck. My folks told me I should try a big city. I didnt care much for Chicago, the
closes big city near Rantoul. But, Indianapolis seemed like a good place to try and find
work.
With nothing more than a high school education and bad memories of Afghanistan, I
searched for jobs that would remind me of the Army. I applied for law enforcement jobs
and security jobs. With a BCD, no one gave me a chance. Desperate and broke, I
begged a local bar owner if I could wait tables at his place. He didnt ask about my
past, didnt do a background check, heck, I didnt even fill out an application, but I got
the job. Rex, the owner, had me start right away. He said he wanted to test me out first
and would pay me under the table for a few weeks. I needed the money, so I didnt see
a problem with our arrangement.
I didnt realize how often people went to bars to drown their sorrow in a bottle of
whiskey. On many occasions these pitiful folks would piss me off. I guess Rex got tired
of me yelling at his customers that he let me go. That was the first firing in a string of
firings I experienced.

For months I could not hold a job for more than a few weeks. I gave up looking and
wandered the streets of Indianapolis until I ran out of money. I needed to clear my
head. Depressed, angry, and disappointed with myself, I needed something to pick me
up. I visited a fancy adult club on English Avenue. Sitting in the club, I thought to
myself that I would enjoy being a bouncer at the place. It would make me feel like I was
in the Army again. I asked the manager if he needed a bouncer and to my surprise he
said, Yes! I started the next day.
My first night on the job didnt start well at all. I was told to stand at the door and look
intimidating and that would be enough to ward off potential trouble. I didnt have a
problem with that at all. At 6 4, 271 pounds, I was bigger than most people. I was
stronger than most people too. I also knew I could kick butt if I had to.
I hadnt seen any Middle Eastern people since leaving Afghanistan, until these two
Middle Eastern men attempted to enter the club. I stopped them and asked for ID. Just
the sight of them aroused intense feelings. I was hoping they would give me a reason
to crush them. One guy was meek and introverted, the other guy was brash and
cocky. He was resistant and did not want to show his ID. I snatched his wallet out of
his hands, grabbed his drivers license and read his name. Flashbacks about firefights
in Afghanistan came rushing back. My heart started to pound, adrenaline surged into
my veins, sweat poured from my head, and my teeth automatically started to grind. I
was thinking, Please give me a reason to crush you. The cocky Middle Eastern guy
got in my face, his nose touched my chin. I lost it. I completely blacked out. I came to
my senses as the cops hit me with their taser guns.
I was told that I beat the heck out of the two Middle Eastern guys. One guy suffered a
concussion, and I apparently broke the cocky guys jaw, eye socket, and busted his left
arm. I was proud of what I did. In my mind, I got a little revenge for my buddies who
were killed in Afghanistan.
For that altercation I had to do a year in jail. Since getting out of jail I have been looking
for a job. I am currently in the veterans homeless shelter and getting treatment for
PTSD at the local VA.