Refocussed: Vietnam veteran finds peace from PTSD in the dojo

REFOCUSSED

Vietnam War veteran finds peace from PTSD in pursuit of GKR gradings

MILITARY veteran Tony Blake is more familiar than most with the notion of the fog of war — the situational uncertainty associated with armed conflict.

A former member of the 7th Battalion, Royal Australian Regiment, he served in the Vietnam War and experienced firsthand the alarm and confusion of closequarter combat. And while he personally escaped the bloody campaign in South East Asia physically unscathed, the fog failed to lift on his return home in March 1971 and he was left nursing deep emotional scars. “I found so many difficulties in everyday life when I came back from Vietnam,” the 72-year-old said. “I never wanted to have many people near me and I really struggled with loud noises. At home, I couldn’t even handle my two boys running around playing cowboys and Indians.” Revealing the root of his mental unrest, Tony described to Shimbun how he was haunted by memories of an incident that unfolded close to the end of his 12-month operational tour. While returning to camp after ambushing a Viet Cong position, a member of his platoon — the soldier walking directly in front of him — stood on a landmine. “I was so lucky not to be injured apart from a couple of small hits by shrapnel,” Tony, who was 21 at the time, explained. “I was carrying the medical kit when the blast went off so, while everyone else probed for more mines, I used my rifle’s bayonet to prod the earth in front of me and reach John [the wounded infantryman] as quickly and safely as I could. “I splinted his legs with an unloaded rifle and secured it with bandages. Fortunately we all survived but I have suffered from flashbacks of that moment ever since.” Despite his harrowing experience overseas, Tony transferred to the Royal Australian Army Medical Corps and served a further six years before the psychological effects of his time in the jungle forced him to hang up his uniform. With a family to support he took a job as a brick burner in the Southern Highlands of New South Wales, working late afternoon and night shifts. The unsocial hours suited his search for solitude from others but a little too well and, missing the camaraderie of the Services, Tony found himself feeling increasingly isolated. With very few friends to confide in, his mental health continued to deteriorate but it was not until 1997 — more than twoand-a-half decades after feeling the heat of battle — that he finally reached out for professional help. A diagnosis of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) duly followed and Tony, who was born in the UK and emigrated with his family to Australia in 1965, spent a month in a mental health hospital learning to manage the triggers that had tormented him for so long. World events, however, conspired against his treatment and when the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan began making daily headlines, his anxiety returned with a vengeance. Spotting Tony’s need for an enduring distraction, the Australian Department of Veterans’ Affairs advised the retired sergeant to pursue a sporting endeavour — guidance that would rekindle an old passion

“AT HOME, I COULDN’T EVEN HANDLE MY TWO BOYS RUNNING AROUND PLAYING COWBOYS AND INDIANS.”

and set him on a more positive path. “While I was deciding on what sort of training I was going to do, I went with one of my friends to pick up his son from a dojo,” added Tony, who briefly flirted with the martial arts during his time in the Army. “We waited for the class to finish in the hall and I noticed the strikes, blocks and kicks were strangely familiar to what I had done for a short time as a member of GoShyn-Ru 40 years earlier.” By the end of the session, Tony had decided to stage a karate comeback at the age of 61 and — under the tutelage of Sensei David Sandor in Wollongong — quickly found the sport reconnected him with the positive aspects of serving his country. “The strong values I learnt in the dojo were much like those I had been taught in the Army,” he said. “The nature of karate requires a person to focus, study and submit to coaching thereby developing their own self-discipline and that is the same in the Forces. I associate the patterns of kata with the process of following set moves in a military drill. “There are a number of physical similarities as well, such as wearing a gi and a uniform. “Most importantly for me, while karate is an individual sport, the atmosphere created at GKR classes is about working together and that was the part of being in the Army I loved most.” Crucially, the club’s grading system also gave Tony long-term goals to fix his attention on. “While you are assisted and helped by your sensei, it’s your own personal hard work that helps you get better,” he continued. “Having something to throw all my efforts towards gave me the distraction I needed. “When I am in a dojo it gives me a break from the franticness of everyday life. As soon as I bow in, I live in another headspace and it allows me to forget about the triggers that bring on the PTSD by controlling my breathing and focusing on mastering the skills at hand. Training never fails to leave me sore, sweaty and spent but I am always exhilarated by it.” Such is the kick of exhilaration Tony gets from his karate that the PTSD sufferer has no intent of being distracted from his distraction. Crediting his chosen club with clearing a way through the fog, the seasoned karateka — who graded to Sandan in 2019 — concluded: “This will be my eleventh year with the club and I still look forward to heading to the dojo with as much keenness as I did when I started. “Unfortunately my illness cannot be cured and it takes a lot of effort on a daily basis to have it under control. “There were times when I was so low with anxiety that things could have ended badly but ever since I started with GKR I have had something to keep me going.”

“AS SOON AS I BOW IN, I LIVE IN ANOTHER HEADSPACE.”