Showing posts with label ptsd. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ptsd. Show all posts

Friday, 1 August 2025

Varied Ways by Frank Quartz



  https://www.xinxii.com/fiction-literature-1/thriller-663?product_id=532124

 

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1823570 

 

Varied Ways

by

 A book of writing on Frank’s life and more. Frank Quartz. A man from Europe. He loves Amy. He was a soldier. He has lived in many European countries. Just now he works in a bar in Portugal. He was once a soldier and Special Forces operative. He served in Venezuela. That was a war that never happened. It touched him deeply. PTSD hurts him and Amy. Yet Frank has no regrets and would do it all again. Read his story here in the poems and short stories. Are you like Frank?

Thursday, 24 July 2025

Venez Mil

 


Venez Mil

In the military area in Venezuela. This could be classed as the entire country but in reality it was just one large zone. There were a dozen bases and facilities. Some were only reachable by air, others by road or sea. Venez was a massive country. Frank was there for a while and did many missions. At times he left and then returned. This was for debriefing or extra training. There were times when he was meant to return and was stuck in situ. For example, when the weather went bad or enemy patrols were looking for him. He always escaped for he was Frank. It was as simple as that. When people asked how he did it, he replied by the will of God and his training. No more no less.

 

Frank's greatest attribute was his patience. Like when learning a difficult topic or waiting for an enemy to come on by. Wait and results will be given. All in good time. Like waiting to get over Amy or back with her. What would she think of the military area in Venezuela? So much went on there. Their army guarded many labs and production facilities. You know what they made. It wasn’t shoes.

 

Venez was like Vietnam. Many soldiers remembered 'Nam. Less remembered Venez for far fewer had been deployed there. They were SpecFor, Special Forces. Not normal squaddies holding the line. There was no line. The enemy battle area was all of Venez and neighbouring nations. Frank had gone over the border into Columbia six times. It wasn’t delineated. The jungle was the jungle.

 

One day he would write a book about it. Use a different name and tell the world of this ongoing secret war. What would his dear Amy think? Of all of it. He would deal with his PTSD and get to tell a unique story. Events from the nation called Venezuela. A number of their nationals and others were with spirit due to Frank. How close it came to him being there…

***

 

Friday, 11 July 2025

Understanding

 

 

 

 

Understanding

Frank knew that both he and Amy were type cast in their roles. He was the wounded soldier with PTSD and she was the understanding but struggling girlfriend/ex girlfriend. She really tried her best to support him and be there. By being there she endured her own Hell. That of hearing his stories, feelings and experiences. He was reliving and re-acting them. Amy had never seen a man cry before. A powerful strong muscular one like Frank. She knew he was proud of his service but fought strong demons. The price of what he'd done in the jungles of Venezuela. She wondered how he would be if he never went there? Would they still be together or would some mundane issue ruin their relationship? He wasn’t one for cheating or abusing women. He was quiet and thoughtful. His sensitivity was what added to his troubles. He dwelled on things. She taught him this wasn't a good way. He needed to understand and move on after processing all the events. Frank had seen a specialist several times. Amy had been there. They were raw meetings. It all came out. More than he told her. Afterwards he was calm like he was free. But it came back in cycles. Different things setting it off. In time this pushed Amy away. She put up walls to protect her own sanity and became distant. Then she silently left one day. Frank still messaged her but rarely got a reply. Like being in the jungles he was alone again. His service pistol was on the small bedside table. It was loaded. Always there always ready. Like he was. Frank the soldier. In his small rented room near the bar. He had to go to work. Not think about the killing or death.

***