There are few clubs more esteemed or exclusive than the living Medal of Honor recipients.
Every recipient has a different story.
In this series we examine what came after that moment of extraordinary courage.
I am hesitant to talk about what happened that day January 31, 1968.
I was wounded in my face and torso.
My commander on that day was Lt. Col. Glenn Otis.
Before he could get that done, he was wounded and evacuated.
My award was downgraded to a Silver Star.
I am a member of the Cherokee Nation.
I got a lot of flak for that in Vietnam.
People said, Dont give him firewater or hell go crazy or Hell scalp us while were sleeping.
Along with Mexican soldiers, Black soldiers I faced this again and again.
They asked me: Did you kill babies?
Did you burn villages?
Did you smoke dope?
Compared to veterans of Korea, WWII and WWI, it was a cold reception.
The feeling was that Vietnam guys were a bunch of losers who couldnt win a war.
I didnt want to go that route.
I enrolled in college.
But it wasnt easy.
My biggest handicap was hearing loss.
There was still that emotional challenge as well.
It was hard to break the psychological grip that Vietnam had on me.
Life after Vietnam
In many ways, we were no different from soldiers of past generations.
Back then, the term PTSD didnt exist.
People didnt understand the psychological phenomenon.
They called it shell shock.
They thought it affected only a small number of people.
It makes you a different person.
I graduated from the University of Oklahoma law school in 1976.
I married and am still married, and my wife and I have two children.
I went to work for a major law firm in Oklahoma City and ultimately established my own practice.
I practiced law until this past February, when I closed my office.
