Stories Which Cannot Be Told

Why Veterans Are Suffering

A dear friend of mine who was not a soldier but who was a member of the support staff of a unit I took to war during the Afghanistan surge in 2010 witnessed her son, a former U.S. Army Ranger struggle in his transition - immediately upon separation and several years after. I’ll call him Mike. She called me one day just after Mike had lost a Ranger veteran and dear friend to suicide. He could not understand how such a strong, seemingly confident man could be suffering as he obviously was. It hit him hard. She sought my help due to Mike’s anguish. I didn’t have any immediate answers – I’m a soldier and a veteran, not a behavioral health specialist. But I had to help her.

The conversation awakened me a bit more as to what happens to those who serve and who ultimately make the transition back to civilian life – whether after only a few years or a long career in uniform and whether they served in combat or not. Moreover, it reminded me of the struggle many Americans experience; why and how are veterans suffering and how can they help? My friend was besieged with frustration over why she as a mother – the one who once healed his physical and emotional wounds felt powerless, even disconnected to a man she birthed and raised. Mike’s struggles made far more sense to me than to her. He was suffering and, beyond the loss of a loved and respected military brother, I had a better understanding of why. His story could not be told.

Mike experienced the transformation we all experience when we enter the military. Stripped of our individuality, we become Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen, Marines, and Coastguard men and women. We offer a signed check to our nation payable with our lives. We commit fully to a cause greater than ourselves and to our fellow servicemembers, our military brothers and sisters. We form bonds, as General Stanley McChrystal shares, “which are stronger than marriage vows.” We serve a cause, not work for a paycheck, in a profession surrounded by people ready take a bullet for us – to lie down their lives for the mission and for their fellow servicemen and women. The experience is profound and everlasting whether one serves only a few years or a long career. Mike’s military experience was more intense thus his suffering was more intense.

Mike was once a giant – wearing the tan beret and, on his shoulder, the distinguishable unit scroll of the U.S. Army’s 75^th Ranger Regiment, a small, elite unit of specially selected, physically and mentally strong soldiers. He was a paratrooper and a commando – a military special operator trained for tactical insertion and military raids in the most dangerous areas on the battlefield. He was a three-time volunteer – the Army, Airborne School and Ranger School. Mike completed the U.S. Army’s Ranger School known for its extreme rigor and high attrition. He earned the coveted Army Ranger patch or “Ranger Tab” as it is commonly known and competed to serve in the 75^th Ranger Regiment. Few in the Army have what it takes to serve in the ranks of the 75^th. Mike was selected because he was exceptional and wherever he went, on a military base or on a battlefield others knew it and looked up to him – feared him. He was once confident, and strong, and backed by the world’s best warriors. He was once never alone. Mike could always reach out to his left and his right and there his buddies would be night and day. He knew, without question that an extensive support system of combat aircraft, medical evacuation, and constant drone video, to name a few, had his back. Mike was a king. However, when he transitioned, which happens practically overnight; he took off the uniform and left the ranks of the 75^th and the U.S. Army forever - he surrendered his crown. This intoxicating bond of trust, inclusion, belonging, and mutual respect – of extreme selflessness and unit pride fulfilled him beyond description. In his encore life the bond vanished yet the Ranger remained, alone and suffering.

Once transitioned, Mike entered a world where few knew him and what he had experienced – even his own mother. Indeed, he was still her son but there was so much more. Mike’s experience was only amplified by serving in the elite Ranger Regiment in a time of war, therefore the trauma, experienced when service members transition from similar experiences, is intensified. His brain, which became accustomed to the language, customs, and culture of the military and his elite unit must work harder as his military life chapter and all that came with it has abruptly closed. His harder working brain, his feeling of isolation will result in stress and even depression.

Veterans have a story they want to tell but they cannot. Mike shows his mother Ranger war footage on the internet trying his best to describe it to her, pointing out men he knew and the actions they were taking. This is his way to tell his story, to take her there – to help her understand him, but he just can’t. She cannot smell what he smelled – the dust, sweat, and gun powder. She cannot feel the concussive blast from weapons being fired at close range. She cannot hear the distinctive crack of an enemy rifle, the metallic click of weaponry, or the foreign language of an enemy combatant. Her heart probably races but she cannot truly feel the adrenaline of such a moment.

Mikes mother did not experience the transformational journey he took to arrive at that place he was in the video – on an exceptional, highly trained team in the distant, violent, darkness of war. Mike and his Ranger buddies did the impossible. They went without sleep, food, and hygiene for days on end living in the mud facing down a vicious and committed enemy. Mike served in distant lands in the heart of darkness where evil resides, and lives were taken. Now he resides on main street, and nobody gets him. His mother may not truly understand what it is like to place her life in the hands of another person and to ask them to place their life in hers. It’s akin to a woman explaining to a man what is like to experience pregnancy and give birth to a baby. Mike is left misunderstood and alone, away from his brothers and sisters. The news of the suicide of a fellow esteemed warrior pours fuel on an already burning fire of the transition stress he is feeling. Mike wants to share his story to be understood – to heal, but he cannot.

One cannot ‘soldier’ forever. All service members must depart the military at some point, whether they ‘age out’ or decide to make a transition to a something different. While transition does not happen overnight, it sure feels like it. Most service members have several months, even years to prepare, however, while preparing they are still wearing the uniform and still part of their military tribe. They still belong to something greater than themselves embracing the code and values now woven into their DNA. It is only when the uniform comes off, when a servicemember steps outside the iron gates of their military installation that the effects of transition truly begin. Some handle it better than others however, I submit, we all suffer in some way.

Like Mike and so many other veterans, I suffered. I still do some days. I struggle to tell stories which cannot be told. Following my transition, I struggled to alter my language – to realize I no longer possessed the rank of Colonel which, like a Ranger Tab was respected and honored in the Army. Infused with the Army Values of Loyalty, Duty, Respect, Selfless Service, Honor, Integrity, and Personal Courage, I entered a society I found to be selfish, polarized, and affluent - one I left behind twenty seven years earlier. I was proud of my service and while I didn’t flaunt it or cast judgment with everyone I encountered, I wanted them to know what I had experienced. I wanted them to know the impossible things I did in training and in combat. I wanted them to know my amazing military spouse Leslie and tell her stories of service and sacrifice. There were times I attempted, as Mike did, to explain the inexplainable. I was met with looks of great respect and admiration, but I knew I wasn’t getting through. I share more of this journey in my book, “At Ease.”

When I’m treated with disrespect, cast aside, or when someone is rude to me, I feel the burning sensation to explain who I am and what I have been through. I’m turned off – offended even when someone flaunts authority, self-promotes, or swaggers. I have this visceral hatred of selfishness as I came from the most selfless profession on the planet. Today I manage these things ok. I don’t fly of the handle or turn violent. While it is difficult, even 9-years deep into my transition, I’m able to control myself, to empathize even with those who did not serve. How could they possibly understand me and my experience? How could they possibly understand my story or Mike’s?

I offered all this to my friend to help her understand her son’s difficulty. I had no easy button. All I could do is help her understand what Mike was experiencing – what we all are experiencing. If you find yourself in the shoes of my friend, whether it is a relative or a friend, don’t give up hope. Provide that safe space for a veteran, their spouse, or even a military child to tell their story. Listen intently and ask questions. Try, hard as it may be, to get one step closer to a veteran and to understand what he or she experienced and is experiencing. Find out where veterans assemble, muster some courage, and go meet them. Ask them how their transition was and is going. Ask them what they would want society to know about them and their service. Ask about their family. Move beyond a heartfelt but hollow, “thank you for your service.”

There is a lot to this thing called military transition. It is incredibly hard and complex, and I don’t have all the answers. I do share my experience with fellow veterans on the journey and I hope, through my writing and keynote speaking that I’m able to give voice to the story – to get closer than my Mike was able to. This lengthy conversation I had with my dear friend about her son Mike was powerful, enlightening, healing, and emotional as I wrestled with my own challenges. It is where I discovered the ‘story which cannot be told.’ But we must try. All of us.

If you are a veteran, don’t give up. Attempt to tell the untellable. It is important for society to hear your story even if it is hard for them to conceptualize it. Attempt to make peace with the fact that few will truly understand you. If you are suffering, return to your military tribe. From the VFW, Legion, and other veteran service organizations, your tribe is out there and ready to embrace you. Avoid the pity parties – “oh woe is us…” They only fuel your suffering. You are abled, not disabled. Return to your family and friends. Call for help. Don’t get resentful. Focus instead on the new freedom you have and work to make this new chapter better than the last. It must be.