War stories, in words, photos

War veterans from Iraq and Afghanistan were given a camera and an assignment - use photos to tell your story, to convey what it was like to be deployed, come home, get medical care, get along in the world.

Eighty photos and accompanying quotes were assembled for an exhibit, "From War to Home," that opens Tuesday at the Philadelphia VA Medical Center, timed for near Veterans Day.

The images, submitted by 40 veterans from the Philadelphia area, convey the horrors of war and difficulties of coming home.

Lawrence Davidson submitted a photo of a big, muddy hole in the ground, a crater, in Iraq, with this caption:

"That was a bad day. There were U.S. Forces staying in a building, and a car bomb detonated out front. We were sent to dig through the mud to recover body parts to send home. I've got a lot of bad dreams from that day."

Micky Doto provided a photo of himself in an abandoned bus, near the Appalachian Trail. He sits on a torn mattress, smiling. His quote:

"I feel like an alien in civilization. . . . I've spent lot of time out in the woods. Some people call it homeless; I call it being an outdoorsman."

Brian Young Sr. photographed a brilliant sky.

"Sometimes I take pictures of the clouds, thinking I might capture an image of Jesus. My faith has been tested, but it is still there."

Gala True, a researcher at the Philadelphia VA who organized the exhibit, hopes it will resonate with veterans of all wars, and show the public the costs of war.

The project's goal was to help VA doctors and nurses better understand these new veterans and their needs.

"It's important to see," said Davidson, who photographed the crater, "and not just to look but to internalize it. That is the price of war. That is what it costs." Davidson served in Iraq in 2006 and 2007 and is pursuing a master's in social work at West Chester University.

Another participant, Jamie Beavers, took a self-portrait and said:

"When you're an infantry guy, they give you whatever you want to either stay up, or to go to sleep, or to not feel the pain. I was taking Percocet. I was taking Morphine. I was taking Valium. I was taking Klonopin, Dilaudid. One medication they gave me was like speed; I think it was Ritalin.

"After a while, you just get addicted. Then they just cut you off when you get back. They tell you - 'Whatever happened over there stays over there, cool?' Then you're on the streets looking for [drugs]. You're looking - and then your life just goes right down the tubes. I feel like I've got the weight of the world on my shoulders."

True was shadowing doctors for a different project when she realized how frustrated the veterans were. Doctors would ask questions, and patients would try to answer by telling a story, but doctors had no time to listen.

So True, who has a Ph.D. in folklore, began recording their stories.

"Some of them," she said, "would bring in photos after a while and say, 'This is the guy who I told you about who was killed,' or 'This is the guy who I told you about who was my best friend. . . .'

"I just realized that there was this very powerful thing that was happening, that the photos were helping them tell their stories. One of the problems I think a lot of veterans have is that some of the experiences they've had are so surreal, and so outside the normal human experiences that it's hard for them to even connect to their own memories and their own experiences."

So with the cameras, she asked them to focus on four questions:

How does deployment affect your mental, physical, and social health? What challenges do you face when you come home in making the transition to civilian life? What barriers do you face when it comes to getting health care? Where do you get your strength and support? They could also use photos from earlier deployments in answering these questions.

Many veterans of the Afghan and Iraq wars don't use the VA, or come only rarely, True said. A goal of the project also is to understand why.

Chantelle Bateman submitted a photo of a knotted, twisted tree, which to her represented the VA. "It is like a maze," she said. "The system is not set up for people to talk through things."

The grant for this project, from the VA, was $90,000. True hopes to get another grant so some of the 40 veterans in the project can get paid to take the show on the road and speak to high schools, colleges, and other VA hospitals.

Raquel Rojas, of Philadelphia, submitted a photo of a perfectly made bed in a little room. She wrote:

"Back from our second deployment, we were away for training. My commander killed herself. That's the room she was staying in: Room 22. She hung herself in the bathroom. She went through with it."

Toby Bodnar chose a photo of a small wound and said:

"Images of blood are kind of a draw to me. My best friend in the military was killed in Iraq. He was killed in an ambush on the day we were supposed to be back in the U.S., except we had been extended for three months.

"I was gifted with a box of his 240 ammo that he had been using during the ambush. The rounds were caked with his blood, and I was encouraged to use those rounds to kill."

Dustin Greenhill came home and went to medical school. He submitted two photos of his backpack, one in combat, and another in a medical school auditorium. His quote:

"I had this backpack on my first deployment. That photo is my second deployment and the backpack survives. It was dirty. I used to carry my ammunition in there; I used to carry health supplies for when someone got injured. I carried war stuff in there."

Tracy Pennycuick, a retired lieutenant colonel from Harleysville, says this exhibition is so important for the VA doctors and staff.

"If you have never walked a day in a combat veteran's boots, you have no clue," she said. "I hope this project opens their eyes to what life after is. It is different. You never come home the same."