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Coping With My Iraq Nightmares
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It was a slow, painful awakening to realize last week that I have post-traumatic stress disorder.
The holidays can be difficult for many reasons. For me, it could be that I’m studying finance and energy policy in some of the worst economic and energy crises of modern times. These holidays could be rough because my family near Detroit just lost their jobs when our business of 25 years went for peanuts in a fire-sale. It’s possible that I’m feeling down because I’ve spent more than my fair share of Christmases aboard a submarine or inside a war-zone. Then again, it could be that I just broke up with a wonderful woman who I care about very much (and that I don’t understand what went wrong). But if the holidays are tough on me for these reasons alone, then why is it that I keep having nightmares about Iraq?
Over the last several nights, I’ve been chased by insurgents, blown to bits in mortar attacks and paralyzed by memories of the scene from my office window—the landing pad behind Baghdad ER where unrecognizable remnants of men on stretchers were rushed from helicopter to operating room (presumably for organ donation... what else was left?). When I’m awake, my hands occasionally shake... I can’t focus in class... I can’t sleep until utter exhaustion sets in... and on the really bad days... well, let’s not talk about that, please.
Despite the fact that I’m not traveling home for the holidays, I’m incredulous and indignant that I am still carrying so much baggage.
It was a slow, painful awakening to realize last week that I have post-traumatic stress disorder.
On the day I left Baghdad in July of 2007, I checked out with the medical department by completing a mental health survey on a Palm-Pilot. Have you been exposed to danger which immediately risked your life? I checked ‘yes.’ Have you seen any of the following wounded? I checked the boxes for ‘Coalition Forces’ and ‘Civilians.’ Have you been exposed to sand? I checked ‘yes’, but only because no shit, Sherlock, wasn’t an option. The survey continued for 27 slides.
An army doctor in his sixties took me into a private examination room.
“Would you like to see any specialists when you return home to... uhhh....” He glanced down at my medical record, where my home address was written.
“...Connecticut?”
The Doctor looked up from the clipboard and blinked with a detached look of routine concern. I wasn’t sure what he meant, but the notion that I might have ‘special’ problems didn’t sit well; it was simpler to say no. The doctor was silent as he typed on his computer. It looked as though he was concerned about something—perhaps my record or the Palm Pilot had triggered a warning signal. Maybe he’ll send me to a shrink... But that sort of complication was the last thing I wanted. The doctor’s brow furrowed, I became even more nervous. Dammit, he muttered in frustration.
“What is it, doctor?” I asked quietly, trying to appear confident and well.
“Uhhh… It’s this darned Connecticut thing—what’s the abbreviation? I can‘t get ‘CN’ to work.”
I told him the abbreviation and he typed it into the computer, his face lighting up with epiphany before sending me on my way. I left the clinic with all of my boxes neatly checked.
Last week, a journalist in Baghdad threw his shoes at President Bush. Some Iraqi citizens interviewed later that day described the launcher of these “ground cruise missiles” as a hero. According to one jubilant man, “He threw twenty-seven million shoes,” one for every person living in Iraq by his calculation.
Everybody’s got problems. Nobody in America is making it through this Christmas season unscathed. But despite the fact that I’m not traveling home for the holidays, I’m incredulous and indignant that I am still carrying so much baggage. Now that I think about it, I’ve got a pair of combat boots that I don’t particularly want anymore; I wouldn’t mind throwing them away to lighten my load. Or better yet, in the spirit of the season, perhaps there’s a lonesome, wayward soul in America who truly deserves to be given the boots...
By my calculation, that would make twenty-seven million and two.
Merry Christmas, Mr. President.
Christopher Brownfield drove nuclear submarines before volunteering for duty in Iraq. In Baghdad, he worked as a liaison between the State Department, coalition militaries, and the Iraqi government. He is studying international energy policy at the Johns Hopkins School of Advanced International Studies. He has written a book, My Nuclear Family: Growing up with Energy & Violence.
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Christopher Brownfield drove nuclear submarines before volunteering for duty in Iraq. In Baghdad, he worked as a liaison between the State Department, coalition militaries, and the Iraqi government. He is studying international energy policy at the Johns Hopkins School of Advanced International Studies. He has written a book, My Nuclear Family: Growing up with Energy & Violence.
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Christopher Brownfield drove nuclear submarines before volunteering for duty in Iraq. In Baghdad, he worked as a liaison between the State Department, coalition militaries, and the Iraqi government. He is studying international energy policy at the Johns Hopkins School of Advanced International Studies. He has written a book, My Nuclear Family: Growing up with Energy & Violence.
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Christopher Brownfield drove nuclear submarines before volunteering for duty in Iraq. In Baghdad, he worked as a liaison between the State Department, coalition militaries, and the Iraqi government. He is studying international energy policy at the Johns Hopkins School of Advanced International Studies. He has written a book, My Nuclear Family: Growing up with Energy & Violence.
All the issues involved here have to be separated from coping with the PTSD. There are medications that a competent doctor can prescribe to facilitate cognitive therapy, but the cognitive therapy is key, and key to cognitive therapy is a willing patient. The main goal is to condition the patient to recall the traumatizing events without being traumatized by them anew. Happy holidays, and peace, to Chris.
How, how how could anyone go to any war anywhere and not have some psychic trauma? In earlier wars, they called it 'shell-shock'. Today, it's PTSD, but like the rose, by any name it is just as real. The more intelligent and creative and imaginative and sensitive you are, the more likely it is that you will have these problems and that you will develop relatively effective coping mechanisms. This is a problem. If you go ape-shit at the WalMart in New Haven, they will get you help whether you want it or not. But if you just quietly and legally go nuts in your own room, no one will notice for a long time and even then, if you are quiet and don't make trouble, they may not offer help because no one knows what you need. You do. Go get it. It's out there. There are countless men and women just like you with the same sorts of problems. Go find them. Help each other. You will bear scars forever, but you do not have to bear these burdens. God bless you. And GO GET HELP!
God Bless you.....there are so many more out there and yet many more to come that have got, or will have the same problems as this young man.
My fervent hope is that ALL these brave men and women get the very best treatment and help they need when they come home.....they deserve nothing less.
They should given the utmost care from the VA in all areas once they are home and none of this "red tape" nonsense....they never had the luxury of waiting to see if they should go, they had to go immediately, so there is no reason for them to have to "wait" for any kind of treatment due to "red tape".
Time for them all to come home, not another wasted life is worth it.
Mr. Brownfield:
Thank you so much for what you have done so far with your life. Now... get and be well. And keep writing... keep telling us what you are learning, going through, and discovering. We ALL need to hear it and to learn to listen better and better, day by day.
Seek out your sisters and brothers in this, the next phase of your journey. Come home. Explore your pains and needs and let us know what they are so we who have benefitted from your sacrifices can not only appreciate those benefits but help you in any way we can so you can be back with us... the fortunate, the protected, the secure.
Thank you, sir. May your peace find purchase, expand, and flourish for you and all in your most precious generation.
PS to cajola: Within this context, I would hope you could find ways to eliminate the word "wasted" from your chosen vocabulary. Sacrifice is sacrifice and it will be decades before anyone can truly assess whether and to what degree "wasted" is an appropriate adjective to apply to this sacrifice. Hey, it may well be. But Mr. Brownfield and his contemporaries don't need to hear it now. With all respect, cajola, give it some thought.
Why do so many non-combatants claim to have PTSD? Mr. Brownfield was not in a combat unit. Nor does he claim to have been in any such engagements. Rather he saw body bags from his office window.
I suggest to you that Mr Brownfield's psychological fragility is more the issue than actual stress related to real combat.
Thankfully the DoD has recognized the Brownfield types for what they are and keeps the highest level of benefits for those who operate at the "Tip of the Spear".
Like the Vietnam Veterans you meet decades after the war who claim, "I'm homeless because of my experience"....Mr Brownfield thinks of himself as a victim. Yet his DD214 reflects no real dangerous service.
It's time to look past those who cling to victim hood and spend more time thinking about how to better kill our enemies. May their "wounds" real and imagined soon heal.
mewcomm,
I understand what you're saying there...or at least attempting to say and there are alot of people who come home who hype up their experiences there for one reason or another, be it financial gain or a boost to the ego but just what is the "tip of the spear" as it pertains to Iraq...?
I mean, look, there are some obviously heavy operators over there, the infantrymen, scouts, tankers, aviators (and their crews), the special operators and whenever I get the chance, I sing their praises to anyone who will listen and I shake their hands because they damn sure deserve it for their sacrifices but what about the others?
The cooks, truck drivers, Military Policemen, communications guys, medics, electricians, plumbers etc., that while they may have never been involved in any direct force on force engagements, have summoned up the courage and navigated MSRs Tampa, Mobile, Michigan, Uranium, etc.
He's drummed up the daily courage that it takes to navigate these roads knowing full well people outside that wire are wiring up devices to take his life. His Soldiers' lives. He's withstood the daily attempts on their lives from IEDs, Snipers, or the random ass clown with an AK-47? Are their wounds imagined? How do you judge?
What do we say to the kid who came home that didn't do his entire year in the safety of Kuwait or Bahrain...or the relative safey of the Green Zone (not that you can't get scuffed up there) or Balad but was on some smaller location in a more dangerous environment and withstood the daily, almost routine mortar and rocket barrages? Felt their impact.....Seen what their impact can do to human flesh.........He's lost friends to these rockets....Wondered, almost assumed that eventually, one would come for him, whether it was on the porta john, in his rack or walking to the chow hall because after all, it's happened to others. He can never go anywhere without first eyeing where the shelters are (not that they're worth a damn but it's psychological) in fear of being caught out in the open when/if the alarm sounds.
What if He's seen people die and watched as others faught like hell to hold onto their lives? He's Heard their screams? What if he's learned that the way death comes in the movies is rarely the way it happens on the "Battlefield." He's donated his own blood and time and watched in sheer horror as the realities of war were laid out on a slab in front of him. Is this not "dangerous" or at least worth acknowledging and again how do you judge?
Again...I know full well that there are those in our Military, the Combat Arms guys, who see things and do things on a daily basis in a combat environment, the likes of which I can't imagine but even amongst those men there are a few that haven't done all they say they have....but that's for them to work out inside their own conscience. The same as it is for the guys in "Soft Skill" jobs. It's about your own damn name and your own damn Honor. The people who aren't particularly interested in either are always gonna be a part of the system but again, that's not for anyone to judge in my opinion.
Having said that, I'm sure that there are many that have experienced some things that they'll never fully be able to articulate. I include myself in this group. I don't want anything from anybody except to understand what the hell is happening to me. I don't want sympathy, a pat on the back, or any real acknowledgement. Even though I signed up before the war, I knew full well what the risks were.
However, it is in my opinion the spirit of your post that is perhaps one of the reasons that so many of them don't seek the help they may need. So they suffer in the silence of some kind of substance....While it's my opinion again that not every "Veteran" is homeless because of the Horrors of War, the Vietnam Veterans got a rough deal. They caught it from all sides.....The Public, The Government, and The Enemy. This is something that we shouldn't forget, lest we repeat their sad fate again. The bottle and the needle doesn't judge.....Perhaps we shouldn't either. Nobody wins in the end, Except our Enemies.
To: mewcomm
I heart your concerns, however, doubt both your sources and experience. The number of returning vets who fake it has always been grossly exaggerated, usually by those who feel they have some stake in withholding or reducing what society owes to returning vets who don't fake it. In the service, we refer to these individuals as REMFs. Vets will know what I'm talking about.
Mr. Brownfield.....
Some questions please.
What Dr. diagnosed you with PTSD?
What "combat" did your boots participate in?
You claim to have had a "slow painful awakening" ,and that you are incredulous and indignant to be carrying so much baggage! What are you a victim of? Seeing wounded warriors (people who were in actual combat) out your window?
Obviously I don't believe your tale of woe. No Combat Vet would. Your military function was non-combatant and desk bound. Yet you come home state side and claim to be damaged as if you had an important and dangerous role in our Iraqi mission.
When society has so few that serve, they are easily duped by people like you who have not been in harms way.
Your column could only be published by an online site where fact checking and verification are absent. If such background checks were in place, it's unlikely your piece would have run as imagined (written).
The Daily Beast needs to answer questions:
Do you check out the "painful" claims like Mr. Brownfield's? Have you seen his DD214? What does "drive a submarine" mean? Was he the Skipper? It sounds so cute and official but what exactly did Mr. Brownfield do in this position that he selflessly left to volunteer for a Desk Job in Iraq? If Mr. Brownfield does indeed have PTSD as he claims, is he entitled to benefits? Or is his claim pending, since so many come home and fraudulently claim to have PTSD. ( The VA is currently investigating thousands of suspect bogus claims of PTSD). That Mr. Brownfield was not involved in dangerous missions yet had a few bad dreams places him in the dubious category.
I ask the Daily Beast to subject future columns by Mr. Brownfield to routine fact checking. Indeed all columnists should have to meet a minimal editorial credibility threshold. This piece clearly does not.
Thank you.
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