August 11th, 2011 I was discharged from the United States Army. What I'm about to share with you I am sure will seem far fetched. However, it is my story to tell to anyone who will lend an ear. I seek nothing more than to share my side of the story that I never got to tell.
March of 2010 we were convoying west over a bridge leaving Ad Dawr and heading into the city limits of Tikrit over the Tigris River. Just past the Tigris river at the 10 of our convoy an improvised explosive device, or IED, was triggered just to the side of a Fuel tanker carrying 150 Barrels of JP-8. From a hut about 200 yards out two men ran to a bongo truck and ran for cover. We did not engage because the new threat was coming from the alley to the 2 O'clock of our convoy. Small arms fire started hitting the front of my vehicle. I called in the location but as I had the button pressed the rear gunner had already spotted him.
Tigris River
Our lead vehicle just in front of the tanker took off like a bat out of hell. It was his cherry being popped and its way more common than you’d think. I’ll tell you what though, that tanker held his ass like an eraser on a pencil. The Trip was short back to Speicher and the 7.62's being shot from their AK's were not going to do anything to our 1151's, LHS's, or Caimans... I doubt it would ever even light the JP-8 in the tanker, (If that even mattered.)
Caimen
1151
We called in to the front gate that we had made contact and we were coming in hot. The gates were opened and we posted up to debrief.
Another time near that same road we had made a turn too early into an alley when we had first deployed to that Area of operation, or AO. I had been driving a reefer truck and my A/C unit on the trailer snagged one of their hand hung electrical cables. I hadn't realized till I had got there that I ripped two power poles down with it. Once we made it to the FOB (Forward Operational Base) called woodcock, all the guys started joking with me about ripping out Tikrit’s power grid on the way here... "let’s see what you fuck up on the way back." That was the theme for the ride back.
On the way back through the town of Tikrit the people painted out entire convoy with nothing but a biblical stoning of biblical proportion. Screaming and yelling at us were angry faces of mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, and grandparents. All standing in front and on top of their homes. Again, while in up armored vehicles, even though aggressive it did not substantiate a threat. We pressed forward.
However, that was the first time I saw their eyes. The entrance into their souls, if you will. It left an impression with me for sure. It was different this time. Usually I starred center mass. This time though, I slipped up and looked at them. As I did, I envisioned, my parents, my brothers, and my sister yelling at foreign invaders. For the first time I placed myself in their shoes. I am sure others have placed their selves in the shoe of the enemy, and I have had several conversations with my battle buddies about it. Each and every one of us seem to have mixed emotions about it. For me it was the first time I wasn’t excited about engagement.
It's hard feeling sentimental about a group of people where the enemy is indistinguishable from the civilians. Its easy to see them all as the enemy when half of them are always trying to kill you. I can assure you though, with how long you’re in hell, it’s hard not to feel bad for the devil at times. It's just that though... it’s easy to reference evil sentiments and at the same time see them as nothing more than patriots. It just required a new perspective. Taking the time to look at them, I guess that’s what did it for me. For that moment I was not checking hands, bulge’s in garments, nor shoes or flip flops. I instead looked at them. My years of dwelling and researching have only led to a finer tune realization of where I stand when I think of them. It’s much better today than it was then. That first realization though, that was a hard thing to realize.
I was 12 when the twin towers were struck. Everyone alive remembers the place they were. But we all HATED anyone that wore a turban too. I am just as guilty of it. I had friends’ brothers, fathers, mothers, and more die. I think it hit a lot of us pretty hard as the aftermath of it just kept piling up through that extended war. I know I wasn’t the only one experiencing it. It was everywhere. People were so terrified that even laws that would never make it through today were passed then. The patriot act is the most human violating piece of legislation ever passed. However, I know that’s for another article.
It is true though. Everyone of us in the military at the time shared a common hatred for a common group of people. For most of us our missions desire was to seek and destroy. We only cared about numbers. Not so much the longevity of that nation. Come to realize today I don’t think our politicians of the time cared much either. But I do think that that term terrorist is a loose one to say the least because I terrorist can be a patriot all in the same. Terrorist to the enemy and a patriot for their team.
For instance, George Washington under current definition could be seen as a victorious terrorist to the British and a patriot to the united states. After all, we were being shot at in the home land of a group of people who we invaded for unjust claims. Just the same as the British invading the colonies with force we did to Iraq and much of the middle east. From where I sit the moral justification to a war is dictated by the winner rather than the looser. No matter the cause or justification of the war, history has always been written and accepted in validity only from the side of the victor.
With that said, I hope you can see the moral merry-go-round I had put myself into. I never backed down from a gun fight because it became a war about nothing more than understanding me and my friends were stuck there. We all knew it was better to kill than be killed. We found pleasure in a soul for a soul because it seemed the only way to make up for a friend lost yesterday. Payback and obligation to your brothers were the only two reasons I ever acted. Never was it once for "your freedom."
Towards the end of my deployment we were in Tikrit going through what is called a transitional period. The transitional period is when a new unit comes to take over your AO. The exiting unit shows the new guys the ropes and run through BOLO lists, (Be on Look Out.) Describe any new tech being used in the field. Gunners guide gunners in tips and tricks for successful hunting skills. Live drills are practiced, and the Officers and higher ranking enlisted provide existing AO intelligence of different variations.
While in Tikrit at Saddam Hussein’s Birthday Palace we were standing outside in the walls of the confinement when maybe one thousand guns started firing in the distance. For me, in the distance is anything further than the effective range of an AK. For people who have not experienced warfare I am assuming it is probably a lot closer. It’s probably because those new guys hit the deck so hard and so fast that the rest of us couldn't help but laugh. Now thinking about it, I guess it is kind of weird to find humor in another person’s inability to handle situations like that and assume that as normal.
I could go on story after story sharing many other events that took place, but I think I provided enough to move further down the road of this discharge. A little further down the road to five months after that deployment to Ft. Bliss, Texas. I had been sent back to the states after the deployment and my duty station had been transferred out of Ft. Riley, KS and to Ft. Bliss, TX.
There are 16 combat Battalions in the Army. That war was a revolving door. You were gone 15 months and back for 6 months and gone again for 15 months. When I got stationed in FT. Bliss, my battle buddies back in the first infantry division were being sent to Afghanistan. As well as many of whom transferred to other units within the 16 Battalions. The war had made a hard transition and fast. From one shit hole to the next. And I was not going to be able to be there with them and for them. That was a hard realization when I found out where I was stuck.
I was sent to Ft. Bliss, Texas to a TRADOC unit for the Sargent Major Academy. When we were not transporting E-8's to the academy in canvased 5-tons we were testing new weapons and the new MATV's in the fields of White Sands Missile Range, New Mexico. It was a horrible system they had there for training. We were currently in the middle east and the field manuals written were only the basics of what you practiced overseas. Well those field Manuals were how the weapons and the vehicles were being tested. Vehicles tested on pre-designed tracks and weapons systems on firing ranges or with laser systems in mock villages.
MATV
I was not the only one to notice, my battalion commander did as well. He was riding out his last year or so after spending his enlisted time in the special forces. I was standing in line waiting to go next through OP 4 drills when I overheard him tell my first Sargent and company commander about how the weapons were not being gritted up enough. The NCO's were not adequate in real life training drills because all of them had been trapped in that TRADOC unit and none of them had deployed. There were E-7s that had spent their whole military career in that unit and had never seen combat once.
It wasn't long into that conversation when he saw my 1st infantry division combat patch on my shoulder. Insignia that I was one of maybe 5 in that company that actually had been deployed. Not only that I was 6 months back and fresh from combat. He called back an E-6 and had me take his roll. Staff Sargent just got shot. Specialist West is next in command. Just as he said that OP 4 made contact in a Bongo Truck from the 12 of the mock village. Once contact has been made you already have been briefed on your mission prior. Our mission was to Follow a BOLO and clear the village. Our mission was not to engage enemies from afar unless required to finish mission.
I called cease fire to my team and called a rally point at the South east end of the building clear of Windows, over hangs, and the vehicle circling the area behind the village. Everyone stacked behind a jersey barrier and spaced out and held individual sectors. I posted the 249 Against the other end of the building watching the only accessible roadway for the hostile vehicle to enter into our AO with specific engagement rules to the gunner to shoot to kill.
I called for the "Comms Guy" to request for a scout weapons team be sent to our location for Arial support. This would allow for us to Engage the vehicle and still breach the house we were on which I assumed the vehicle was attempting to draw us away from the building. Overseas that was a trick taught to me by A SF unit that used to be posted out by a place called Hesco Alley.
“Eyes are everywhere for these guys and they know where were going before we get there. They know who is in the city and who we are after for the most part. Who to hide where to take them and sometime we get in the middle of it and a distraction is what they provide. If you can be drawn from the target the target can move to a new location and live another day.”
That was my presumption at least as this may be the case. I was taking a chance. Through our radio we were notified that the scout weapons team took out the vehicle upon arrival. Now we were clear to engage. However, anyone in the house would know we were there. So, we had to figure out a way of breaching without the first guy in the door being shot instantly. I called out for a flash and indicated that is what was happening so that it was documented as to which type of grenade I was throwing in.
(It is important to note here that training is not about winning. It is about walking through and spotting weaknesses for improvement. OP4 is not there to win, instead they are there to find flaws in our responses. At least for this specific field mission)
I had the door kicked in and man number 2 through the flash. Man number one pulled the door closed and leaned back. It was a mock flash so no noise was heard we had to wait for a three second pause and then breach again. In the Field manual on the way through the door, man 1 goes in one way... two goes in the other... three follows one and 4 follows two. They had been doing it the same and we changed it up prior to going in... 4 was to follow 1 and 3 was to follow 2. The way the building was constructed one would cruise the far-right wall seeing that there was no right turn to bear. Two and three would clear the first set of corners before 4 made his 180 into the building.
Eventually we cleared the house then called off our status and ammunition check. We had been the first unit to succeed that morning. I had later received an Army Accommodation Medal for that field mission. I received much praise for my actions that day and I was even invited to eat at the table with the battalion commander and we ironically shared war stories. His were far cooler than mine. It was an extremely cool moment yet unorthodox in the military you must know. It is was uncommon for an E4-P to share a meal with a battalion commander at least in my experience.
Well, that's the second to last field mission I was on before I was kicked out of the military with a general under honorable conditions Discharge as an E-1. At the same time this was going on I was going through counseling for already diagnosed PTSD. During the day was difficult at times, but at night it was terrifying. I had been sleep-walking at night and I had already been arrested twice while caught in front of my apartment in El Paso Texas Keeping patrol with my AR-15 in full gear.
After the second time I was prescribed several anxiety medications, but none for sleeping. You would never notice in a field mission because sleep deprivation is extreme and your engaging in mock war the entire time. Everyone has a weapon so no one gets on edge if they see one being carried. However, in the civilian world at 2am in a non-combat zone, I can only imagine how scary that may be.
Each of the two times I was arrested I was released to my chain of command. My chain of command ordered me to seek counseling when they saw that both times, sleep walking, had been put in the officers report. After this field mission where I got my third Army Accommodation Medal, well that made the third arrest. After the third arrest I was driven straight to a psychiatrist and medications where reevaluated. All of my medications stayed the same but one that was added. That new added Tic-Tac was Ambien.
With that Ambien came a very strict Field wavier that removed me from all OP4 Missions, sleep deprivation events, and any firing ranges. I was marked down as not combat ready and my treatment became as regular as a daily shit. Every day I had to go talk to a therapist. We talked about everything. Even the stories my wife has never heard that therapist did. She had reconfirmed the diagnosis for PTSD and asked me what I wanted to do about it.
It wasn't clear what she was asking at first but through further conversation she suggested a chapter 17 which was a medical discharge. I never thought highly of a soldier that took a paycheck over honor. An able body that can work should work in my opinion. I was not missing legs like some of my friends. Hell, I got into the war near the end... the guys before me did all the leg work. My grandfather gave his whole life to the military and my father 13 years. I had only served 3. I had a PT score that exceeded 300 and a GT score I had just bumped up to 113 to give special forces a go. I still have plans to thrive in this profession is what I expressed to the therapist. She acknowledged my desire ,but told me with a diagnosis like that they will look over my app every time and not being deployment ready would ensure that I have a paperwork kind of career for the rest of my military experience, which would most likely end at year 10 as an e4 through a forced separation.
The information I received that day I was too young to take seriously. She continued to tell me that sometimes all PTSD needs is time and sometimes life becomes more normal over time, it could get better. My thought from that was I just needed to ride this out for another year and with maybe a break in combat I would be a good. I very reluctantly agreed with her on that as if I had a choice.
Maybe two weeks after that field wavier was given to me I was told by my chain of command that we were going to go to another field mission and they would not recognize my field waiver for absence. They did ensure to honor my sleep schedule. I spoke with my platoon Sargent and she informed me that I was to show up or be AWOL.
Where this story goes from here, it is the lowest point of my life that just continued to bury me deeper and deeper to where while I don't condone taking one’s own life, I completely understand it. I must also add that the following events are not of my recollection, but of others who shared the story with me. I am unsure as to the exaggerations and exact happenings as I was on Ambien at the time, but this is how I was told.
Less than a week into that field mission I was sleeping in a thirty-man A frame tent. From what I was told it was probably 12-1 am and everyone had just gotten back from a live fire exercise. My Female platoon Sargent came over and shook me awake. It was then that I mercilessly beat her.
I wish I could tell you what I was thinking at that time and it continues to bother me to this day, but I will truly never know. All I know is that the very next morning I woke up on suicide watch. No blouse, no weapon, or boot laces. An armed guard at the front of my cot and in the headquarters tent surrounded by computers everywhere.
Why am I here? What’s going on? Where are my things? Who are you? I was loudly asserting all of these questions to my captors who were wearing the same garments as I. I soon recognized where I was but still had no indication as to why I was handcuffed to a cot. Soon Two MP's showed up and escorted me to a van where I was transported a little over a half hour back to William Beaumont Hospital of El Paso, Texas where I was in Processed into the 9th Floor Psychiatric Ward.
I was scared to death what was going on. I didn't know if I hurt someone or even worse killed someone. Live ammunition was left on range so I know I didn't have any way of shooting someone assuming I was walking the grounds on guard again. Not like at home where I was arrested with a full 30 round magazine and one in the chamber. Whatever it was it had to be bad. It would still be about 10 hours into me arriving there before I would have talked to a doctor and been told what had happened. The only thing I could be told by the doctor was on sworn statement copies given to her.
The sworn statements, as they were read, were just making the amnesia worse. None of what she read matched my character and several sworn statements had even indicated just that. My behavior was not normal. Some statements had listed I was on Ambien and they had even warned the platoon Sargent of that before she attempted to wake me up.
That night went poorly for several reasons and even though, I still was kicked out of the military for it. After I had viciously and wrongly assaulted a female Platoon Sargent, I assaulted several others who were trying to separate me from her. I yelled racial slurs about sand niggers, towel heads, and more unflattering horrible words describing a group of people I didn’t feel that way about anymore. I was soon taken down by four different guys that were all lower ranking. I was zip tied and escorted to the medic tent where the medics claimed they did a urinalysis, checking for any drugs in my system.
While there they interrogated me and the sworn statement didn't really cover any of the questions outside of me giving my name and rank. None the less I was questioned while high out of my mind on Ambien by my current chain of command at the time. Other reports continued to add that I was asked what my intentions were and I answered that I was going to kill every curry eaten mother fucker in this land. I am not sure what the explicit hatred was caused by because i gave you my feeling about these people earlier in showing how easy it can be to confuse them as sharing more in common with me than that of being different, which is truly how I felt at this point. I didn’t stay in that war for hate... I was in it for holding people accountable for attacking me and my friends once I was in it.
I enjoyed the Local children who we played soccer with often. Dads would bring their boys over and show them around the bases and the palaces and we would take photos with the kids there. We would share meals in the homes of the sheikhs and we would hold long ended conversations with local interpreters. I am by far incapable of being racist towards this class of people because I personally know too many things that keep them separated within their community's. Differences so big that you have to ask questions to feel someone out. If not, your judgment was most likely incorrect. such as religious and political views. My PTSD was a result to regret. A moral conflict. Either way who cares, that was not what I got kicked out for but I wanted honesty to be the foundation of this article.
That statement from my commander questioning me asked me what would I do once everyone was dead. In her statement I said I would kill Myself. That is why I was in a psychiatric ward instead of a holding cell.
As for the doctor reading these sworn statements off, every one she read made me think it was the story of another. I began to think they confused me with someone else, but every statement had my name in it. I just sat there dumbfounded waiting for an idea of how to respond. I had nothing to say to the accusations. With so many people saying so many things it had to be true that it was at least me. I sat there quiet until the doctor asked me a few questions directly about the event. About 1/2 hour into that conversation and discussing why my field waiver was not honored she said she was putting in for a chapter 17 "Medical Discharge."
I guess it was a race to the finish because my commander must have gotten notified about the doctor’s recommendation. She showed up right after our dinner and let me know that she was going to make an example of me and that she would be putting in for a discharge for a serious offence which I would most likely be sent to Leavenworth for. Information I quickly shared with my doctor who suggested I have her called in for the court martial.
I was in that Hospital for 3 weeks while my soon to be canceled medications were reconfigured with great scrutiny. Lining up every day like inmates picking your pill out of a ketchup cup and downing it from a Dixy cup. Going out for a cigarette and people looking at you in disgrace as if we all were playing the crazy card to get out. Again, I had recently begged to stay in. I had nowhere to go if I got out of the military. I had nothing but to be grateful to the military. Yet still that crazy person jumpsuit you are forced to wear is by far humiliating.
At the end of that 3 weeks they released me back to a headquarters out processing unit to wait for my impending court martial. I was given a sheet with people to call legal and non to get everything going for my court martial hearing I would be having in less than a week if I didn't find legal aid. It’s still blurry recalling everywhere I went after all these years, so the time frame is most likely wacky here. I do apologize. Either way I had went to see JAG. It was not as cool as that shitty 90's series.
I walked in and sat in the waiting room that was packed as bad as a welfare office. If not for all the ACU's I’m sure that crowd would have caused a lot more anxiety than I already had. Soon after about an hour or so I was called in to the attorney’s office. I sat down and he began talking.
No names, no formalities, only the advice that if I fought this, I would most likely go to Leavenworth for assaulting a non-commissioned officer. I never even got to plead my case to who I was supposed to obtain legal representation through. Instead, I went to a "General Court Martial" with nothing more than a consultation. I did take a listing of my doctors contact information. Again, I figured that was my best witness to have. It was the only witness that I could think of with little to no legal experience. I had so much as to show up late for formation. I was a fish out of water in this area.
I did my best to inform him on what had happened, but at every attempt I made no headway. At every sentence I was interrupted. I never got to finish one thought with him. All I knew is that all he had was what everyone else wrote about me that night. Now I know I was being denied representation, but I was too ignorant to push back and demand a proper trial. But since I did not, I was forced to look into the private sector and of course as an e4 geographical bachelor, I had no money at all. Retainers for court marshals start at 1k when you’re looking for a lawyer out of in the civilian world. Crooks in ties!
The day of the trial came fast. It was the fastest two weeks of my military service. I was so tired all the time, loosing my sanity, and depression was just horrid. Like I said before, I don’t condone suicide but I sympathize with it. I don’t remember much from that make shift trial however, I do remember enough. And that starts with my certified letter from my therapist who I was denied to allow attend. I remember that the highest-ranking person, in which their office was were the trial stood, was none other than the battalion commander that gave me an AAM 3 months prior to this.
The others that were in the office and voted to choose my fate were as follows. The platoon Sargent I assaulted, my female commander, and my male second Lieutenant. God Damnit!!! The fucking Victim was on my god damn jury! You have got to be seeing how fucked up this was by now. My discharge paperwork was signed off by a two-star general and I don’t know how. I was not given a chance to read any of the paperwork I had signed. I know the thought is why would you not say something? Well, how do you expect an e4 to standup for himself when since the get go I was told everything by everyone. I should probably note correctly that I was not an E-4p by time I was signing the paperwork. I was an E-1. Before I signed my paperwork the Platoon Sargent I had beaten came over and ripped my rank off my chest. I was discharged as an E-1.
I remember that like yesterday. In the military, rank, for the most part is earned. I busted my ass for mine. I was an amazing soldier. I was loyal and I loved my job. I worked hard at what I did. I was both mentally and physically tough. I was strong. However, after this event, my life took a turn for the much worse.
It wasn’t long till I left the base. I stayed with a friend for a day or two than bused back to my dad’s house. I had lost my apartment, all my clothes, my car, my job, my respect, and my dignity. All the medications I had been on were now gone. No sleep aids, no depression medication, nothing but reality to deal with. I remember even my father didn’t look me in the eyes when he picked me up at the bus stop with a backpack. I let everyone down. I was humiliated and absolutely defeated. I instantly turned to hobbies of a horrible nature. Cocaine, pills, and massive amounts of alcohol all fueled by shitty part time jobs. In less than 3 months I went from receiving an award in the military to selling plasma for crack rocks while living on my dad’s couch. Hell, I went from raiding houses in Iraq to selling plasma for crack rocks in less than a year!
It wasn’t long till my dad kicked me out of the house and I started living with friends and curbs. So, let me repeat myself again, this is the absolute lowest point of my life. Should I ever be on my death bed, for any requested regrets, this will be the first thought.
I stayed messed up for about a 6-month binge and as Tesla put it, “the realization came to me like a flash of lightning.” As it did with my determination to get sober. It’s lonely when even you give up on yourself. When your body gives up but your consciousness stays active. My body was continuously fighting with my mind. I wanted to be something better, but I thought I wasn’t worthy of love anymore. I let everyone down. I blamed myself for everything that happened. But one day, I just woke up and loved myself again. I wish I knew how to explain it. I looked at my hands, my fingers, my feet, and my legs. I decided I wanted to have a say on my own life for a change. I was tired of waking up in places and having no recollection of the transitions in locations. I used to be something and I was beginning to not think but know I could be better again.
Since I was a child, I had been told what to do and when to do it. For a change maybe I could take the reigns and guide my own path. Unlike the military I was not dictated to a schedule anymore. I was unclear if I should hold that as a fear or be grateful. Either way I was going to use it to every advantage I could find.
I was not sure about a lot of things than, but I know what I was 100 percent sure about. I was 100 percent sure that I wasn’t going to be kept down by anything any longer. Especially not some fucking powder a strong gust of wind could take out. I was stronger than that and better than that. I got mad, I cried, and I screamed. I was that crazy guy fighting a power pole on the main street at a stoplight. That same guy you dare not make eye contact with. It took maybe two hours that morning to beat my own ass into submission and I anonymously admitted myself into rehab. 4 weeks later after reconnecting with my mother, I headed out for Michigan to move in with her and start a new life.
Heading to Michigan, I was ambitious once again. I had a second chance to what could have been a much worse outcome from that ungodly process. I was going to take a new look at life and I wasn’t going to play victim like a bitch. I didn’t have any medications and PTSD was still an issue, but I was going to take it day by day. Just improve me and everything else will fall in suit. I’ll tell you what, 8 years later I still do my best to keep that to heart.
Thinking back on these events I often wonder how I could have been so stupid. How could I have not fought for myself? I had just spent my time defending everyone else but myself. What could I have done different? Maybe I could have denied taking that Ambien. Maybe if it had been assigned a different duty station. Maybe if I had just never gone into the service to begin with. But then I think no. Hell no! That process is why I am intrigued by law now. My discharge took away my GI Bill so college is far fetched for taking on a law degree of any nature. So instead I studied Tax Law and became an EA. Where one door closes another one opens.
I have three lovely boys and a wonderful wife now. Life, with time, has gotten better. Had I not been negligently discharged from the United States Army I may have never met My wife. We wouldn’t have had our three boys, and I don’t know if I would be as happy as I am today. I still suffer with PTSD, but at least now I can manage it with a little bit of bud and a whole lot of loving from my family.
