Edward Passetto

Monday, May 27, 2013
By Mickey Friedman

Edward Passetto came down from Pittsfield to The Best Small Town in America to find some peace, to end his pain. A Marine, at war in Afghanistan, he saved two civilian victims of a helicopter crash. But here at home he was just another casualty.

Without realizing it, the Berkshire Eagle published Edward Passetto’s suicide note. Clear, concise, his letter to the editor told a simple, sad story: “I am a proud veteran who has served in both Iraq and Afghanistan and was medically discharged from active duty in 2011. I returned home and no one noticed. So I went on with my life, filed my papers with the Veterans Administration and started the waiting game. The same waiting game hundreds of Berkshire County veterans are struggling through along with millions of vets across America.”

No one noticed. Imagine: one moment, far from home, there’s the hypervigilance of combat, IEDs and suicide bombers, and the reality that the Afghan soldier we just trained could turn killer. The next moment, back in the Berkshires, nobody wants to know where you’ve been, what you’ve seen and done, and how you’ve managed to survive.

Edward Passetto wrote that he was one of 900,000 vets waiting for disability payments. I understand the Veteran’s Administration needs to make sure that these payments go to those who are truly disabled. But Post Traumatic Stress Disorder is not the easiest of diseases to diagnose. How do you prove that you’ve once again dreamt a burning helicopter, that you can’t sleep because of the screams? How do convince someone that the sound of firecrackers sends you diving for cover? That you’re afraid you might have killed a Afghan child?

So now no one will contest that Edward Passetto was a victim of PTSD. Now, no one will argue that he deserved those payments he was waiting for.

Those of us lucky enough to live in The Best Small Town in America live in the shadow of Monument Mountain. Not as majestic as the Rockies, Monument Mountain is nevertheless beautiful in its modesty. At the end, Edward Passetto came to Monument Mountain.

In days gone by, I might have believed that he had sent us an effective wake-up call. But a week has passed, and few people I know mention his tragic end.

Our problems, like Edward Passetto’s PTSD, are so very deep-seated, so very persistent.

My friend Peter came out to join me this past Saturday as I demonstrated. He lives across the border in NY State and hadn’t heard about Edward Passetto. No stranger to PTSD, Peter talked about some of the differences for vets today. After World War II, there were things for vets to do. A full life for vets to resume.

I remember when I was learning about General Electric’s tragic misuse of PCBs. So many of the GE workers I met had served in the Army. Ed Bates, the Manager of Tests at Power Transformer, never mentioned that he had saved his entire crew when his bomber went down in the Pacific. He returned from war to a job at GE, a wife, building a family. And quickly got involved in the rich social life of post-war Pittsfield, coaching kids.

I think of Deno Renieri, who removed a sewer cover on his property to show me the underground lake of PCBs that flowed from the GE plant across East Street to the Housatonic River. And how proudly he informed me of his service as a tailgunner for the Flying Tigers. Celebrated, and appreciated for saving us from fascism, these World War II vets reintegrated themselves into community life.

Things were a lot harder for Vietnam vets like Peter. So many Americans had opposed that war, and unfortunately many confused those who had been sent with those who sent them. No parades. Instead a deep-seated ambivalence. No one really wanted to know what had been done to the Vietnamese, the Cambodians in our names.

Even so, there was a vibrant life to return to. And there was work to be found. Of course, on balance, we have failed our Vietnam vets. Because we the taxpayers, the ultimate employers, haven’t really wanted to share the psychological burdens of war. And a shocking number of Vietnam vets are among our homeless.

And it’s only gotten worse for vets. 9/11 prompted yet another outpouring of patriotism, and yet another generation volunteered for war. My friend John, like so many young Americans, signed up on 9/12.

Tragically, their patriotic zeal was often ill-used by political leaders who, like Three Card Monte street hustlers, misdirected us to Iraq, then hyped Afghani drug czars as democratic leaders worth dying for.

Who wants to see the grand deception? To acknowledge how terribly we have failed those we sent to war. To take responsibility and take care of them. To remember Edward Passetto.