Vietnam vet goes to Iraq: 'It made me worse'
Vietnam veteran Bob Konrardy went to Iraq to bring gifts to the troops and, hopefully, "bury some demons." But demons don't die easily. "I couldn't sleep before, but now it's worse," he says. Konrardy wishes the rest of the nation could better understand post-traumatic stress disorder.
Vietnam veteran Bob Konrardy went to Iraq to bring gifts to the troops and, hopefully, "bury some demons." But demons don't die easily. "I couldn't sleep before, but now it's worse," he says. Konrardy wishes the rest of the nation could better understand post-traumatic stress disorder.
"I just want them to realize the life of a soldier is not what you think," he says. "It changes you for the rest of your life."
Story Highlights
Army veteran went to Iraq hoping to expunge "Vietnam demons"
Bob Konrardy spent four days on patrol in March 2007 as an embedded journalist
"I couldn't sleep before, but now it's worse. I hate to see it get dark," he says
Konrardy says nation must be ready for when troubled soldiers return from Iraq
By Wayne Drash
CNN.com Senior Producer
Story Highlights
Army veteran went to Iraq hoping to expunge "Vietnam demons"
Bob Konrardy spent four days on patrol in March 2007 as an embedded journalist
"I couldn't sleep before, but now it's worse. I hate to see it get dark," he says
Konrardy says nation must be ready for when troubled soldiers return from Iraq
By Wayne Drash
CNN.com Senior Producer
DAVENPORT, Iowa (CNN) -- Bob Konrardy carried the guilt with him for more than 40 years. A platoon commander in Vietnam, Konrardy was wounded when shrapnel tore through his body. Four comrades carried him to safety in a poncho for more than an hour while the firefight raged.
"These four guys went back to help the platoon because they were still fighting, and all four of those guys got killed," Konrardy says. "I felt guilty for 40-something years."
Two years ago, Konrardy got to thinking: He'd be a Santa of sorts for soldiers in Iraq as a way to help him deal with his conscience.
He would collect autographed college and pro footballs, letters from local kids and other mementoes from home to help inspire the troops in Iraq. Then, he would have the goods delivered to his old platoon serving in Iraq, the First Cavalry Division.
He initially thought he'd have the material shipped. But his plan changed when the military signed off for Konrardy to deliver the goods in person and work as an embedded journalist for a local paper.
The 65-year-old grandpa was about to head to one of the world's most dangerous places.
"I wanted to maybe bury some Vietnam demons and just make a difference with this platoon and maybe make up for what I didn't do with my old platoon," he says. "I thought it was going to go one way. It went the other. It made me worse."
He adds, "I couldn't sleep before, but now it's worse. I hate to see it get dark. I get extremely nervous. I get uptight. I just don't like to see it get dark. And once it is dark, I'm on edge until it gets dawn."
Konrardy's story is one of patriotism, heroism and torment -- a war veteran unable to escape what happened in 1965, when he was just 23.
"Here's a guy who is a true American hero in his own right. He was wounded in action in the Iadrang Valley, and he comes into a combat zone 40 years later," says Maj. Chris Rogers, the operations officer of the 1st Battalion, 5th Cavalry, when Konrardy embedded with them.
"In my opinion, he's a guy who has done it all -- bled for his own country -- and he's more interested in telling the story of today's generation of young heroes than trumpeting his own horn."
Konrardy was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder shortly after he retired from John Deere in 2002, when he says his disorder really kicked in. He once sleep-drove to a Wal-Mart about 20 minutes from his home at 3 a.m. He doesn't recall how he got there or how he got home. He only remembers a guy mopping the floor asking if he could be helped.
"I said, 'I'll just shoot out his windows and escape and evade back to the house. I think it'd be fun.' She didn't like that answer," he says with a laugh. "So I'm lucky because that's probably what I would've tried to do."
Konrardy checked himself into a VA facility in Des Moines, Iowa, to get help for his PTSD. He chuckles more when he recounts trying to escape from the place and police approached him. "I rolled down a hill and started running so they couldn't catch me. They said that was the wrong thing to do." Learn about PTSD and how to get help »
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