Good

Medicine

Jonas Rides at the Door said his

tours in Fallujah, Afghanistan,
left him dealing with feelings of
guilt for being alive. The eagle
feather was given to him in
honor of a friends death.

For many Indian veterans,

traditional ceremonies help heal
souls wounded during their service
BY DANIEL PERSON
PHOTOGRAPHY BY TONY BYNUM

M O N TA N A Q U A R T E R LY

hile the first tour put shrapnel in his back and scalp, it was the second tour that
left the scars.
In 2005, Jonas Rides at the Door, a Blackfeet Indian who grew up in
Browning, returned to a Fallujah, Iraq, battlefield that had turned even bloodier
since his first deployment. As a Marine gunner, Rides at the Door repeatedly
raced down roads that could instantly erupt into blinding flashes of homemade
explosives and scrap metal. Around his neck he wore a small pouch given to
him during a medicine bundle ceremony prior to his first deployment. But like
the steel armor on his vehicle, the pouchs protection didnt feel complete.

You know how you go to the fair and shoot those ducks?
That was us, and the insurgents were the ones shooting, he said
on a sunny June day in Browning.
He manned the lead vehicle on 230 combat patrols during
that deployment, a position that left him exposed to the brutal
punches thrown by improvised explosive devices. Worse, many
of his friends, young Marines he helped train, did the same
job on other patrols. Some of them didnt make it; Rides at the
Door has a tattoo on his right forearm bearing the initials of five
friends who died in combat.
When the tour was over, Rides at the Door was overcome
with guilt just for being alive.
Theres an old Blackfeet proverb, Better to die young at war
than grow old. At the time, Rides at the Door believed that. He
thought his own survival somehow implicated him in the death
of his friends.
Back on base in Twentynine Palms, California, others in his
unit werent doing much better than he was and the group began
to self-medicate in a bad way. The nights would start out like a
party, lots of beer and close buddies. But they would dissolve
into a stew of misery and anguish.
The group of us would drink every night. Every single
night. At the end of the night people would be crying, pissed off,
punching walls. It was all about the war, recalls Rides at the
Door, now 30 and discharged, but still carrying the clipped hair
and bulky body of a Marine. I loved being a Marine, the reputation that went along with it. But then that all went away.
By that time, in 2006, the effects of post-traumatic stress
disorder and combat stress were well documented. But Rides
at the Door says that in his corner of the military, nobody ever
talked about it. It was all about killing.
Rides at the Door would be deployed a third time to Iraq,
but a psychologist pulled him off the line once he recognized
his severe PTSD. That got him out of combat, but didnt reverse
the damage already done. When he was discharged from the

Clifford Whitegrass, the Veterans Alliance coordinator with the Blackfeet

Tribe, says the Indian Health Service struggles to meet the counseling
needs of returning soldiers.

Marines, he threw his combat boots over a telephone wire and

returned to Browning to continue his heavy drinking, lest the
horrors of combat drive him to insanity.
Were the story to end there, Rides at the Doors narrative
would have followed the sad trajectory of countless other veterans of the Iraq and Afghanistan wars, into a wrenching whirlpool of anguish and substance abuse. The debilitating effects of
combat-related PTSD have touched every segment of American
society, blind to race and gender. But in rural Indian Country
like the Blackfeet Reservation, health care is scarce and illprepared to handle the particulars of the disorder. Meanwhile,
the kind of liquid therapy dispensed at stores like Icks Place in
downtown Browning is easy to find.
IHS (Indian Health Service) has trouble meeting the needs.
Its not really extensive counseling, says Clifford Whitegrass,

At right: Jonas Rides at the Door received a commendation from the Navy and the Marine Corps for his service in Afghanistan.

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Veterans Alliance coordinator with the Blackfeet Tribe. So

what do they have to turn to, for ways to cope with it? From what
Ive heard, they turn to alcohol, drugs, which cause problems in
themselves.
However, Rides at the Doors story does not end in Browning
or with a bottle of booze; in fact his narrative hasnt reached its
terminus. Its so far brought him through college and put him
in boardrooms seated beside CEOs, senators and top military
brass, advising them on what veterans like himIndian or
otherwiseneed from our nations leaders.
His transformation from blackout drinker to a voice for
combat veterans cannot be tied to any one thing. There was
certainly some luck involved, and a lot of growing up. But Rides
at the Door also credits traditional Blackfeet warrior ceremonies, ancient songs and dances and sweat lodge rituals. And he
found Blackfeet mentors who encouraged him to pursue higher
education as a way both to process his own experiences and to
help others around him.
In wars past, Native Americans have enlisted at rates that
far outpace their overall population, only to be discharged into a
civilian society that struggled to understand the place of Indians
in that society. As the United States concludes the longest war of
its history, Rides at the Doors journey provides insight into both
the dangers and hope awaiting the latest wave of Indian veterans.

I think [Native Americans] can

be made of excellent use, as scouts
and light troops.
Gen. George Washington, 1778

rom the beginning,

Americas military and its indigenous

people have been deeply intertwined. In Montana, the
particulars of those histories varied widely. The Crow Tribe
in southeast Montana never took up arms against the United
States, instead serving extensively as Army scouts, just as George
Washington had envisioned. Other Montana tribes, including the
Blackfeet, had a more antagonistic relationship with white men.
Beginning with the bombing of Pearl Harbor, however, a
consistent narrative emerged from Indian Country: they were
ready to serve. During WWII, the Defense Department estimated that 99 percent of eligible Indian men had signed up for
the draft, though it was an almost insulting idea for the young
men who wanted to fight for the Allies.
Since when has it been necessary for Blackfeet to draw lots
to fight? one young man reportedly snorted as he registered for
the draft.
WWII began a tradition of Indians enlisting in the military at rates higher than any other ethnicity. Ninety percent of

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the Native Americans who fought in Vietnam were volunteers.

Today, while Native Americans make up less than 1 percent of
the population, they account for 1.5 percent of military personnel. A 2012 report by the Department of Veterans Affairs
showed that the percentage of Native veterans under age 65 was
far higher than that of any other racial group.
These statistics are often attributed to a warrior culture
among tribes, dating back to when young men earned status by
displays of bravery in combat. However, this oversimplification
ignores more immediate factors, such as the paucity of jobs on
many reservations.
Many Vietnam-era veterans interviewed for this story noted
that the Bureau of Indian Affairs long advised men that being a
veteran would help them get a job with the agency.
Richard Rides at the Door, a cousin to Jonas, says he didnt
really think much about Blackfeet warrior culture when he first
enlisted in the Army six months after graduating from high
school. Rather, he saw that his father had become a felon as a
young man and his mom had gone into debt attending college.
The army was a way to keep me out of trouble, he says.
But after he was away from Browning for 16 months and had
served a tour in Mosul, Iraq, fellow veterans welcomed him home
as a warrior, which opened his eyes to the cultural gravity of what
hed done. Today he is preparing to dance for a local warrior society which had danced and sung for him while he was at war.
Every time I see [members of the society] they remind me
that I owe them a dance, he says. But I have to be ready first.
And the battles of his forefathers certainly played a role in
Jonas Rides at the Doors decision to enlist in the Marines. In the
Blackfeet tribal offices, a huge photo of his great-great grandfatherChief Rides at the Doorhangs at the entryway. Chief
Rides at the Door got his name after he stole a horse from an
enemys tepee entrance, a feat that spoke to his bravery. Jonas
remembers visiting his great-grandmothers house and seeing
nothing on the walls but pictures of service members. Before hed
even graduated high school, Jonas was speaking with the Marine
recruiter. His course had been set generations before his birth.

heres a photo that

Woody Kipp cant forget. It shows

a Vietnamese woman up to her waist in water, crying
in anguish after her village had just been bombed. The
village was near the Da Nang Air Base, where Kipp loaded
bombs for U.S. airstrikes during the Vietnam War in the late
1960s. He cant forget the photo because he cant rule out the
possibility that he loaded the bombs that devastated that village.
What if that was my mother? he asks to this day. What if
that was my sister?
This, as Kipp sees it, is the commonality of all war and all
warriors: That no matter where the battle takes placebe it
Iraq or Vietnam or the Great Plainsevil is done, and those
who participate in it are saddled with a profound guilt.

Woody Kipp races to catch up with the herd during the running of the horses, the kickoff event to the North American Indian Days Powwow in Browning.
Kipp, a Vietnam veteran, was an early champion of traditional practices to help returning service members.

The locales, the geographic areas, are different, but the

effect on the human mind is the same, Kipp says. You begin to
understand the depth of what you partake in. That sense of guilt.
That sense of recrimination.
Its Kipps beliefshared by Jonas Rides at the Door and
many other tribal membersthat many of the ceremonies
practiced for centuries by the Blackfeet and other tribes were
designed to address that guilt and heal the warrior when he
returned home. In one ceremony, tribal members would paint
their faces black after a battle because they knew theyd participated in evil, in the dark part of the world, Kipp says.
However, for Kipps generation, those practices had almost
vanished, a result of both subtle and overt attempts by governmental and religious leaders to wipe out indigenous practices
and assimilate Indians into white culture. Their parents had
been beaten for speaking the Blackfeet language, and forced
into Christianity.
When I came home from the Marine Corps there were

probably two sweat lodges on the entire reservation, Kipp recalls.

At first, that didnt concern Kipp, who gave himself to booze
and partying after he was discharged.
Then, in the early 1970s, Kipp became involved in the
American Indian Movement, or AIM, which wanted to bring
back indigenous traditions and languages. The culmination of
those efforts was the 1978 American Indian Religious Freedom
Act, which acknowledged that the federal government had
prevented Native Americans from conducting traditional practices in the past and guaranteed them the right to do so in the
future. As a veteran, Kipp became a rare champion of the old
ceremonies, and began facilitating sweats for himself and others,
tribal members and not. He led a sweat for a cousin who kept
dreaming about a man he killed in Iraq. He led a sweat for four
Russian veterans of that countrys war in Afghanistan.
I do know the ceremonies have helped me, he says.
Theres something out there. You rewind yourself spiritually. It
has to be done spiritually.

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We know our troops are coming home and we also know theyre doing to
have PTSD. Will we be prepared, or will we be reactive?

Dancers make the grand entry during the North American Indian Days Powwow in Browning, led by the color guard. Once the dancers have entered, they
circle the color guard while a flag song is sung by a drum group. Veterans receive honors and respect at ceremonies in Indian country.

Thanks to the resurgence of tribal practices ushered in by

Vietnam-era veterans like Kipp, by the time Rides at the Door
was preparing to deploy on his first of three tours, warrior ceremonies had returned to wide practice.
For Rides at the Door, many of his ceremonies centered on the
Thunder Medicine Pipe Bundle, a medicine bundle that has been
in his family for unknown generations. The contents of bundles
are considered sacred and secret, but typically they contain items,
often gathered during battle, believed to give a warrior strength
and protection. Associated with the bundle are ancient songs and
dances, which Rides at the Door performed before being deployed.
When he returned from war, he would dance and sing again,
as well as participate in sweats. He was presented with an eagle
feather by then-chairman of the Blackfeet, Earl Old Person.
And he was given a new name in honor of his bravery in battle:
Thunder Shield Warrior.
Each time he took part in a warrior ceremony, Rides at the
Door meditated on what hed done in war, and what it meant to
be home.
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They know that you probably saw and did some terrible
things, he says. The warrior ceremony brings you back.
The ceremonies were not a perfect salve; Rides at the Door
continued to drink heavily for a time after returning to Browning
and going through the rituals. But on a fundamental level, he
says, it began a healing process that continues to this day.
Theres your warrior modeand youre not supposed to be
that way in normal society, he says. I did the bundle. I dont
feel perfect. I dont feel like I am the way I was before. But I feel
it gave me back my soul.

Rides at the Doors are gaining the

attention of mental health officials.
Despite the large number of veterans in Indian
Country, Native Americans have historically shunnedor been
shunned bythe Department of Veterans Affairs and its services.
The reasons for this are many: Indian reservations are typically deeply rural and many miles from VA hospitals; there
xperiences like

is a culture of distrust between Native Americans and federal

programs; and many tribal cultures continue to stigmatize the
kinds of mental health problems that can afflict veterans. And
new research suggests another factor: traditional VA treatment
for issues like PTSD often dont work for Indians.
In June, researchers with Washington State University
released a study showing that Native American veterans found
typical, Western-medicine approaches to PTSD, such as individual counseling, had no impact or made symptoms worse for 49
percent of respondents. Conversely, 72 percent of Native respondents said spiritual or religious guidance helped them with their
PTSD symptoms.
The traditional Native view of health and spirituality is
intertwined, study leader Greg Urquhart, a Cherokee Indian,
announced when the study was published. Spirit, mind, and
body are all oneyou cant parcel one out from the otherso
spiritually is a huge component of healing and one not often
included in Western medicine.
The VA acknowledges how troubling the statistics are.
According to the VA, battlefield research has suggested that not
only do Indians enlist at higher rates than other ethnicities, they
also serve in more dangerous positionsRides at the Door leading convoys as a gunner, for exampleputting them at greater
risk for PTSD, traumatic brain injury and other harm. Indeed,
Native American veterans suffer a higher than average rate of
combat-related injuries, according to the VA.
In order to reverse the trend in post-combat treatment, in
2001 the VA began piloting a program in Montana that trained
Native veterans to act as on-reservation representatives to help
others navigate the VA system. Along with helping with paperwork and arranging transportation to medical appointments, the
representatives are trained to connect interested veterans with
local spiritual leaders.
When we do it in the traditional ways, people feel more
comfortable, says William Buck Richardson, a member of
the Cherokee tribe who spearheaded the tribal program in 2001.
You can have Western medicine on one side and traditional
medicine on the other side, but its like a basket. Keep the sides
separate and things will go right through it. Without the two
sides together, you cant hold the whole veteran up.
The program has shown promise, and has since expanded
nationwide.
However, Whitegrass, the Blackfeet veterans coordinator,
says the next few years will provide a crucial test.
We know theres going to be a problem. Were downsizing our military. We know our troops are coming home and we

also know theyre going to have PTSD, he says. Will we be

prepared, or will we be reactive?

n the years to come,

Jonas Rides at the Door will likely be

in a unique position to answer that question.
He will graduate this fall from the University of Montana
with a double major in political science and Native American
studies. Over the course of his studies, he took classes at
Blackfeet Community College from Kipp, who encouraged him to
write and meditate on his time overseas. That kind of academic
thought, as much as the traditional ceremonies, has helped Rides
at the Door get past the worst of his emotional turmoil.
A lot of it was just understanding who I amself-actualization, he says.
Hes already spent five months in Washington, D.C. as an
aide to former Sen. Max Baucus on veterans issues, as part of a
fellowship program. While there, he advised the senators office
on issues ranging from college transition for veterans to the
controversial National Defense Reauthorization Act.
In a particularly heady moment, he found himself surrounded
by top military brass and the leaders of major corporations,
discussing the impact that budget sequestration could have on
the economy and the military.
The CEOs were scared out of their minds by sequestration, he says with a laugh. And I was basically the voice of
Baucus.
At every step, hes emphasized that he suffers from PTSD, in
hopes that he can ease the stigma associated with the disorder.
Too often, he says, people consider combat veterans damaged
goods, rather than respecting them for their service and
sacrifice.
After graduation, Rides at the Door hopes to continue working on issues at a state or national level, perhaps staying in
Missoula or moving back to D.C., this time with his wife and
4-year-old daughter.
But eventually he wants to return to Browning, to give back
to the community that raised him. He recalls the times in his
deployment when he would think about the Rocky Mountain
Front, the stunning alpine backdrop to life on the Blackfeet
Reservation. Amidst those peaks the warriors who came before
him found peace and solace, and sitting in the barren landscape
around Fallujah he pined to be back among them.
I hated looking at Iraqi horizons. Id say, I come from a
place thats beautiful and look at this, he says. I missed these
mountains. Each and every one of them.

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