I tell myself this: If I ever join the army, I will enlist as a medical surgeon. No guns, grenades, or storm trooping out there for me. The war shall be neatly summarized in a tent-sized hell.

No amputation. No dismemberment. No steel rending through flesh, deafness from screaming bombs and the constant stress of paranoia. “The enemy’s there, no here! They’re everywhere!?” Something like that.

As long as my M.A.S.H. is not attacked, I should be physically fine. I probably sound pretentious, ignoring the plights of thousands of other Americans suffering from IVCS- Inadequate Veteran Care Syndrome.

More and more veterans are dotting the streets each day. Some have cups with red stripes and white stars. Others morosely hold up signboards, markered “I served in the war.”

Returning veterans are experiencing another war; a struggle to pay for medical treatment bills, or even to find a care center willing to admit the war-torn survivors. For Jonathan Schulze, the battles began upon his return. A Department of Veterans Affairs clinic turned him away. Then voices began to ring in his head, then the peal of a machine gun, and he finally sought out help at a Veterans Affairs emergency room. Discarding the suggestion for group therapy (he did not want to relive anymore trauma, especially another’s), Jonathan applied for a inpatient program at another clinic in St. Cloud. By then he was saying, “Yes, I feel suicidal.”

He killed himself, with intoxication still on his breath, and an electric wrapped around his neck. The news- the center was full.

It appears that lessening numbers in serving officers means smaller numbers- budget numbers. As of 2004, the United States Deparment of Veterans hit a crunch. The deparment began slowing down on its admittance process, only reviewing 250,000 people in 2003 as opposed to the 421,000 in 2001. Veterans must prove that the war directly led to trauma. While amputees can pull back sleeves to reveal missing limbs and burn marks, those afflicted with psychological trauma may find it harder to receive care.

Those who do manage to receive treatment receive a maximum of $2,400 a month. For some, livelihoods depend on the pension. Amputees find it hard to get new work; traumatized individuals break down every few minutes; money can never compensate for emotional and mental damage.

Doctors under the VA system are often hard to find, especially in cases requiring specific treatment. Prosthetics, psychoevaluation, and therapy all demand special doctors. Some veterans don’t receive primary care for years, whereas 30 days is the recommended time.

Nowadays, for every death in the Iraq War, sixteen are injured. Maybe medical advancements are saviors, or perhaps weapons are now used to maim, rather than kill. Whatever the reason, each returning individual can put strain on an already weak system.

They take care of our country’s problems, no matter how trivial or stupid. Why can’t America return the favor?

In my tent, I’ll be safe from physical afflictions.

I just hope the country will support me when I return insane.