Righting a wrong

I am an American Indian and an enrolled member of the Oglala Sioux Tribe. I am also a registered nurse, which places me in a small group of Native American registered nurses who serve our Veterans. We make up approximately 0.4% of all registered nurses in the United States. Nonetheless, our group makes a difference as we embody culture within our nursing practice.

My most memorable relationship was with a World War II Shoshone American Indian Veteran. We first met in front of our Cleveland VA Medical Center. Our paths converged and he asked if I was an American Indian. It was the beginning of a wonderful relationship.

On his many visits to the medical center, I learned he had enlisted in the Navy at 17. His tour of duty in  World War II was in the Pacific Theater at the Battle of Iwo Jima and others.

Battling PTSD

After service he experienced debilitating PTSD. Despite his efforts, VA had rejected his service-connected claim. He shared his frustration and anger, and he confided with me his feelings of defeat and sorrow.

I knew him well enough to ask what happened. He complained he did what he was advised to do—submit the worst thing that happened to him during his service on his claim form. Even though he did, he was denied. He vented to me with tears in his eyes.

I felt close enough to him to ask what he put on the form. He replied, with a tremble in his voice, he experienced military sexual trauma on his ship. When he went to the ship’s corpsman for help, he was abruptly told, “Here are two APCs, get back to work!” APCs were “all-purpose capsules,” Navy parlance for aspirin.

My Elder friend disclosed this in a tone of defeat. As I handed him a Kleenex, I assured him I would help and I began to explore his military service further.

‘Quit moving, you’ll get us killed!’

During the Battle of Iwo Jima, he operated the engine on an amphibious boat that transported Marines to the beach. It hit a large wave, and he was thrown into the water. Under heavy enemy fire he scrambled to the beach and hid behind a pile of dead soldiers. He moved about, looking for a weapon when one of the soldiers he thought was dead said, “Quit moving, you’ll get us killed!”

Startled, he swam back out to sea and climbed the cargo net of his ship. As he climbed, he lost his grip and broke his finger, but held on for dear life—he held up a crooked finger to show me. Finally on the ship, he resumed participation in the battle.

He recalled sailors in the water sucked under by the ship propellers, kamikaze attacks and the deafening thunder of battleship guns.

My heart raced as I listened to him speak, and I felt compelled to help this courageous and humble American Indian Elder.

He described enduring nightmares, an increased startle response, ongoing anxiety and hyper-vigilance. It was clear to me the bureaucracy of the claims process was cumbersome. As he talked, I remembered something a mentor had passed along: “As long as you are following the VA mission, you can’t get in trouble.”

I resolved to do whatever it took to help with the appeal process for his claim.

Righting a wrong

I located a Veteran Service Officer with an outstanding reputation. He explained that evidence was needed in any service-connected claim process. I contacted the National Records and Archives Administration to get the ship’s log to prove he was on the ship and the ship’s tour of duty in the Pacific Theater.

I researched and learned the Battle of Iwo Jima resulted in more sailors suffering from PTSD than any other World War II Naval battle. To me, there was no doubt he was a Shoshone warrior, in the most traditional American Indian embodiment of providing service to the people.

I accompanied him to his Board of Veterans Appeals hearing. I wanted to ensure there would be no doubt as to the character of this honorable Veteran, no doubt he had served with honor and distinction.

He won his appeal and received a 100% service-connected award for PTSD. At 79 years of age he received a large back-pay check from when he first filed his claim, delivering his long overdue compensation.

The day he won his appeal my friend came to my office with his wife. They sat down and thanked me. His wife said because of his compensation award he no longer had to collect recyclable aluminum cans for extra money. My heart sank. I hadn’t realized how challenging his life had been.

Fulfilling the mission

It was then I understood how vital and empowering our VA mission is. I had simply done my job—following our VA mission of service, to be the principal advocate for our Veterans and their families. That day I sat across from a traditional Shoshone American Indian Warrior who I will never forget. I thanked him for his service, and we hugged.

When we embody the ethos of the VA mission, we can positively impact the lives of those we serve. On this Independence Day, I want to take a moment to honor all those who served our country.

Submitted by the Office of Resolution Management, Diversity & Inclusion.

The inclusion, diversity, equity, and access (I*DEA) initiative works to make VA an inclusive environment that values and supports the diverse communities we serve. To be a part of I*DEA’s work to improve VA’s cultural health, join the I*DEA Influencer Network.

To read more stories like this, or to become an I*DEA Influencer, please visit the Showcasing I*DEA SharePoint site. To learn more about the I*DEA initiative, please visit the I*DEA intranet. Want to be a part of improving VA’s cultural health? Become an I*DEA Influencer. Do you want to share your personal story? Email us at idea@va.gov.