Frank A. Wood
USS Mullinnix DD-944 (Blogger)
Frank A. Wood, Author (WordPress)
Sea Stories, Beer, Scuttlebutt, Pubs, Rock 'n Roll, & Other Sh*t
None of it was just, not a single part. We found ourselves engulfed in the chaos of war, where death was rampant. The loss of innocent lives was a tragic consequence. The agony endured was immeasurable. In certain aspects, combat was terrifying. It would scare the shit out of you, yet it possessed a certain clarity. Survival or demise, there was no room for ambiguity. The act of pulling the trigger held no uncertainty. In the midst of combat, the identity of the enemy was clear. They donned distinct uniforms and harbored a desire to end your life. It was a stark and uncomplicated reality.
Member
I volunteered for the draft in late 1969. Two weeks later I joined the U.S. Navy serving from 1970-74 aboard USS Mullinnix DD-944 from boot camp and A-school short of four years. Mullinnix was ordered to Vietnam in April 1972.
I returned from Vietnam with an injury. The manifestation of which took five decades to appear. Five decades to finally realize that I had been severely wounded. My memories had an urgency I couldn't ignore. Like specters beckoning from the edge of a shadowy world. A battery of medical and psychological tests attempted to explain. Writing "Last Gunship - 1972 Memories of a FTGSN" has helped me remove the last lingering spiders in my head.
I'd killed people. Lots of them. Easy not to give it a second thought when you're young, full of piss and vinegar, thinking you're bullet proof. Time marches on. An old sailor replaces the young. The old sailor remembers.
I remembered. The damnable sky-lark attitude I had about doing it. It began to ravage me. In 2019 I reached out to the VA. Diagnosis? 30% PTSD service-connected. In 2021-2 my symptoms exploded. I was being eaten up from the inside. I was so stinking guilty I spiraled into a PTSD-induced depression. Without Jesus, my wife Kim's and the VA's support I suspect I wouldn't be here. I was damn scared. I knew I couldn't continue this trajectory. I reached out to the VA again. Diagnosis? 70% PTSD service-connected. I completed PTSD/Depression therapy, insomnia therapy, and cognitive process therapy/testing in addition to starting PTSD meds. Yet, I took another psychological dive into the abyss. Diagnosis? 100% PTSD service-connected.
You learn to live with it...
I'n not a retired Admiral. Just a regular E-3 who happened to have the unenviable job of pulling the trigger.
I'm currently working on a fourth historical novel. Same ship, early 1960s, set in the North Atlantic.
I live in Northwest Arkansas with my wife Kim and Ely.
I'm an engineering graduate of the University of Nebraska and received my MBA from Oklahoma City University. I am a member of Author's Guild and Military Writers Society of America. I worked in the oilfields for 19 years. Made a hard left turn at age fifty and spent the next 17 years as an information technology consultant and executive transformation advisor. Since early 2023 I've been writing fulltime.
Two things that have crystallized in my mind since I started writing. First, since Vietnam I've been blessed by good times and trials. I've learned and grown from both. I'm truly a blessed man. The extreme camaraderie that war brings is an exceptionally powerful emotion for men. For many it is the ultimate experience. I don't have many friends. Don't seem to need many. My closet friends all served aboard Mullinnix. I thank God for each one of them. They helped mold me into who I am today.
Second, I firmly believe we cannot revisit history enough. It defines us. It defines mankind. We simply shouldn't forget. Deep down, in truth, we don't want to forget. I wonder at times, is history like the falling tree in the forest? If nobody remembers, did it still happen?
A long time ago we knew each other for a short time