Date posted: 11-28-01

Editors: You are encouraged to use this story in your publication. Please credit the author and DeKalb News Service as shown. And, please send two tearsheets to: Jim Killam, Department of Communication, Watson Hall, Northern Illinois University, DeKalb, IL 60115.

Vietnam veteran overcomes painful memories

By Kasmirah Joyner
DeKalb News Service

CALUMET PARK, Ill. -- Lamar Scarbrough's nerve-damaged right hand is permanently clenched in a fist. It is a constant reminder of how the Vietnam War changed his life.

It was 10 o'clock in the morning, Aug. 19, 1969. Scarbrough's Army platoon was conducting a routine sweep of an area that had been the site of a firefight the night before. They searched through the remains of the men who were once their enemies. Papers and limbs were scattered through the area. The troops had become accustomed to the carnage and were hardened by what they saw.

They were looking for important documents, but they found something else: evidence of a survivor. The commander halted the sweep immediately and they prepared to search for the missing man.

They set a black Labrador retriever on the scent of the runaway. The men followed the dog through the thick brush. Weeds and insects flocked them as they followed orders. Under stifling humidity, the temperature was 114 degrees in the shade.

The dog led them directly into an enemy base camp and Lamar knew they were in trouble. The men lacked the artillery to protect themselves. A platoon of eight men was not enough to face a camp of enemy soldiers.

The Vietcong soldiers barricaded themselves inside bunkers. When the platoon came within range, they began firing. The three men in front of Lamar were killed. He didn't have time to think as he pulled out his M-16 rifle to retaliate. One man was killed as he ran to help another sho had been shot.

Bullets whistled past Lamar's ears. Members of his platoon fell around him. The platoon commander called an air strike, and soon the bombs from the planes exploded around them as they rushed to safety.

Lamar was shot in his right arm, severing the main nerve to his hand. In an unexpected way, his wound served as the blessing he had been praying for. It was his ticket home, nine months into what was supposed to be a yearlong tour of duty.

Lamar spent a month in Japan and about four months in Great Lakes Naval Hospital near Chicago. He initially was given a furlough because of his injury, but soon was honorably discharged from the Army. He finally was able to go home.

Home was in Hyde Park, a rough Chicago neighborhood. One of Lamar's close friends died in the area because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Before the war, Lamar had been anxious to escape the neighborhood, but after the war he was just happy to be home.

Lamar went back to school and began working at the post office. Counseling wasn't available for the men coming back from the war. The job kept him sane, but he was unable to escape the guilt.

He'd been in Vietnam about four months when a scorpion bit him on the leg. The bite became infected, and soon he couldn't walk. When Lamar was put on a helicopter destined for a field hospital, a replacement soldier was sent to his platoon. The man had only been in Vietnam for three weeks and hadn't received proper training yet. He was killed during his first firefight.

"That stayed with me a long time because it could have been me," Lamar said.

When they returned to the U.S., some of the soldiers were called baby killers and were looked down upon. Lamar remembers hearing about 9,000 Vietnam Vets committing suicide following the war. Many found it hard to get back to normal life.

For nearly 20 years, Lamar slept with the television on to drown out the sounds of his memory. When he would close his eyes, he could hear the constant gunfire and the sounds of bombs exploding. He would lie awake in fear. Alcohol became his way of trying to forget.

After getting married June 21, 1975, Lamar hoped things would get better. The birth of his three sons gave him a sense of responsibility. He focused his energy on his kids and giving them a better life. Lamar had grown up without a father and only wanted the best for his sons.

But he couldn't escape the memories. Lamar's son, Derick, remembers his father suffering from a sleep disorder. Once when his brother, Daryl, had tried to wake him. Lamar had jumped and grabbed him by his shirt collar. Derick still can see the fear in his father's eyes as he hugged his son and apologized.

Finally, Lamar found Christianity as a way to deal with the memories. He was baptized about six years ago and the painful dreams have disappeared. He also went through Alcoholics Anonymous and has been sober since.

Lamar and his family now live comfortably in Calumet Park, Ill. His biggest accomplishments, he says, are his three sons.

"They make my life worthwhile," Lamar said. "I just hope they never have to go to war like I did."

Today, Lamar has few remaining symptoms of post-traumatic stress. And, he has fought to keep the permanent injury to his right hand from becoming a disability. He can write with both hands, play basketball and cook. He coached his son's childhood football team. He hasn't let the war stop him from living his life.

And, when he greets someone, he shakes hands with his right.

# # #

Source contact info available on request.