Recently, I was talking to a friend when the term PTSD came up. I remarked that I’d heard that the “D” had been dropped since a reaction to traumatic stress was not a disorder but a natural response—in much the same way that inflammation is initially a body’s healthy response, trying to draw attention to a wounded area. When left untreated, however, it can become unhealthy and a chronic and painful condition.
It was fortuitous then that I’d scheduled a post about Tom Glenn, NSA Advisor, for this week, since he helped clarify that the shift in terminology has been in the works for over a decade.
I’d come across his article “Bitter Memories” (Studies in Intelligence, December 2015) early in my research and had made a copy for my files. I’ve read it many times, but it wasn’t until this week when reviewing it again that I picked up on his attention to the shift from “disorder” to “injury.”
He wrote in the article:
Worst of all, I suffer, even today, from a condition we didn’t have a name for back then—post-traumatic stress injury (PTSI). It resulted not just from the fall of Saigon but from earlier experiences in the war.
I knew I needed help, but my job was intelligence, and I had top-secret codeword-plus intelligence clearances. Had I sought therapy, I would have lost my clearances, and therefore my job. I had to grit my teeth and endure the irrational rages, flashbacks, nightmares, and panic attacks.
In a 2021 interview he put it this way:
If you’re on the battlefield and your soul is wounded... that’s not a disorder, that’s an injury.
I’d initially bookmarked the 2015 article because of the way he spoke about writing as a tool. This paragraph really stuck with me:
I wrote and wrote and wrote about what had happened . . . I found out much later that one of the most effective therapies for PTSI is writing down the searing experiences. So to some degree, I healed myself.
I was also moved and disturbed by his frontline experiences in the embassy as the Fall of Saigon became imminent. In fact, I used him as an inspiration for a character in Part Three of my book, For the Love of Vietnam: a war, a family, a CIA official, and the best evacuation story never heard.
I used the alias, “Harold Flynn” to capture a few of the searing details Glenn so deftly relayed in his Bitter Memories.
Meanwhile, in Saigon, the CIA staff who had been forced to stay behind were meeting challenges of their own. Officer Harold Flynn was nearly out of his mind with panic. He found his way to Ambassador Martin’s office.
“Please, sir, we need to implement the evacuation strategy, Frequent Wind. It’s time,” he said, so upset that he barely stopped for a breath. “Haven’t you seen the intelligence that’s been coming in? Saigon is surrounded! An assault on the city is imminent.”
The ambassador smiled, took Flynn’s arm, and led him back toward his door.
“Now, now, you’re overreacting. It’s natural for someone your age. Just keep your focus on your job and all will be well.”
When the ambassador closed the door in his face, Flynn knew the conversation was over.
Flynn raced down the hall to Polgar’s office but the Station Chief was just as unflappable as Martin had been.
“Here, look at this,” he said, handing him a sheet of paper. “Everything is fine.”
Flynn read quickly. It was a cable to Washington from the ambassador, sent just that morning. The intelligence evidence of any assault were simply a clever deception staged by the communists.
Flynn was nearly speechless. “What evidence do you have of a communications deception?”
Polgar waved his hand dismissively. “Please get back to work, Harold. You do have work to do, don’t you? I am quite sure that both you and I will both still be in Saigon a year. At least I will be. If you don’t attend to your work, I’m quite sure you may not be . . . but not because of any farcical communist attack.”
Flynn retreated, horrified. It was as if everything had gone crazy, simply crazy.
I find it fascinating to think that I was in Saigon at the same time as he was. I don’t know if we ever crossed paths, even cursorily, but surely he was in the U.S. Embassy working away as I swam in the pool next to it, floating on my back, staring up at the looming building, watching the clouds make their way behind the rooftop.
Next Tuesday, June 4, 2023 is the first anniversary of the death of Tom Glenn. He published one of his long-running weekly blogs just days before he passed away at 86 years of age. He wrote up until the very end.
Until next time,
Kat ❦
Like Tom Glenn, I’ve sometimes used writing as a healing endeavor. Some of the feedback I’ve received about my book has shown that it’s been healing to others.
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