Photo by Mike Lamb Garry Olmstead, left, and Jerry Culver rode their motorcycles from South Dakota last Saturday to participate in the Balaton Veteran Run.

BALATON — Garry Olmstead was a “big mess” in 1970 when he came home from Vietnam.

“I never talked about much of anything at all,” Olmstead said, as he sat with his motorcycle riding buddy, Navy veteran Jerry Culver, inside a large tent on Balaton football field. The pair from Iroquois, South Dakota, had just finished the Balaton Veteran Run Saturday.

“I was close to that suicide range and I thought about it several times very seriously,” Olmstead said. “My friends walked away from me. I snapped all the time. Any little thing would set me off. I was in a lot of fights.”

It wasn’t until after he suffered a couple heart attacks and a small stroke that Olmstead said he discovered how he could overcome his bouts with post traumatic stress disorder.

“In the year 2000, I got hooked up with a group called Rolling Thunder and they ride from California to Washington, D.C. in motorcycles. I met some terrific people along the way and they kind of took me under their wing and took me down to the Vietnam Wall. It was very emotional. I don’t care if you are a veteran or not.

“That was a life turnaround for me right there. I have gone through some group therapy stuff and everything,” he said. “The thing they explained to me is that I really wasn’t the odd one. I was the normal one. I always kind of held it in because I thought people don’t want to know all the things that I was going through.”

Since that first trip, Olmstead said he has returned five more times. He said each time has made his ability to cope with his past easier and easier. And that is why he hops on his 1970s chopper and hits the road these days. He now does it to help other veterans — especially those now coming home from tours in Iraq and Afghanistan.

According to the Veterans Affairs, about 11 out of 20 veterans from the Iraqi Freedom and Enduring Freedom suffer from PTSD. About 12 percent of those who served in the Gulf War deal with PTSD. Military Times reported that roughly 20 veterans a day die from suicide nationwide.

When riding his bike, he wears his leather jacket that proclaims he “runs for the wall.” He also often participates in bike runs such as Saturday’s Balaton run to help bring awareness to the crisis that military veterans face. And sometimes the rides gives him the opportunity to help a fellow military veteran. He said he also likes to talk to the younger veterans when he visits the VA hospital in Sioux Falls, South Dakota.

“Sometimes I’ll pick out the younger ones that are in there (VA). I started out going to the VA when I was 21 years old. Now I’m seeing kids go in there the same way. And they are just messed up. I like to go over and talk to them. Kind of help them figure out what they can do in and out of the VA.

“I totally respect the young kids who are enlisting nowadays. They know exactly what they are getting in for and they are still out (enlisting). They still have that patriotic feeling.”

Olmstead said he can relate because he enlisted while in his senior year after attending a career day at his high school.

“I walked by an officer — a Marine all buffed out with his dress blues on. And that’s what I had to be. My biggest fear at that time — if my mom is going to let me go. I never thought about getting killed. All I knew was I wanted to go. There is a lot of young people that still have that feeling in them,” he said.

Then that’s when the change begins, according to Olmstead. He said the military will change you physically and mentally.

“They literally strip you of your dignity. The first thing they tell you is this is not a democracy anymore. I’m your father, your mother, your whatever. They break you down,” he said.

Olmstead was sent to Vietnam to serve in an infantry unit in the mountains right at the beginning of the monsoon season.

“It was just pouring rain and the humidity was like 100 percent every day. And then go into the mountains and get into that kind of an area. We lost a lot of guys. When I was shipped in, the platoon I got put into lost seven guys the night before. So I was a replacement for one of them,” he said.

Olmstead was in Vietnam for 7-½ months before he was shot, which eventually earned him a Purple Heart.

“That was a flukey deal,” Olmstead said of the day he was wounded.

“I used to be a heavy smoker. One day, we had gone into a little village. I was standing by a hooch (shack) there and I started to reach into my pocket for a cigarette and the guy said ‘you don’t have a spare do you?’ And I turned to hand him one. It (bullet) went in there (pointing to his wrist) and came out here.”

He was pointing to the other side of his wrist where he now as a large bump.

“It was headed for my chest. I was going for the cigarette. So I always tell people cigarettes not only almost killed me, but they saved my life too,” he said.

He was referring to multiple heart attacks and a stroke that he blames on years of heavy smoking.

Olmstead spoke softly when talking about his attitude on killing as a young Marine.

“I turned 19 in Vietnam. And I was a Marine. I was born to kill. That was what they trained us (to do). I used to wear a sweatshirt that said ‘Born to kill and killing is my life.’ I was proud of it, believe it or not,” he said.

When asked about shooting at the enemy in Vietnam, he paused before answering.

“Yep, yep, we were in a lot of nasty stuff. We lost a lot of people and we killed a lot of people,” he said.

Today, Olmstead has a different outlook on taking a life.

“I used to be an avid hunter before Vietnam. Now I don’t like to shoot things,” he said. “Even ’til this day, there’s just something about it. When you take a life, it’s done. Never, never again. Whether it’s a rabbit or a person. So it changes you in a lot of ways.”