Category: Chapter 3 – Life as a Veteran

My Two Best Friends Want to Kill Me!

I have spent the better part of Chapter 2 and 3 hanging out with a couple buddies whom I have trusted to always be there. We have gone through a lot. The death of loved ones, the death of battle buddies, relationship issues, the stress of leaving service, changing jobs, and moving. These guys have been there for me every step of the way, always making me forget the pain, the stress, and helping me quiet the voices in my head (don’t get alarmed, they are my voices). Now, they are trying to kill me! I’ve tried to get rid of them, but for some reason they still hang around.

Jack and Bud (their real names) just seem to never know that it is time for them to leave. Maybe it’s because whenever I have a problem I turn to them which makes them feel important. Maybe it’s something in my existence, my physical being, that makes me turn to them whenever there is a problem, or it’s Tuesday. Maybe it’s because it is the unspoken, dirty part of the Warrior culture that we joke and brag about, that the Military does so little to fix, that is to blame, and what will ultimately kill us. I’m talking about the culture of excessive drinking. And my friends are my two favorite drinks in case you aren’t catching on.

The openly accepted, no, encouraged, culture of drinking in Chapter 2 of our lives, expands into Chapter 3 and gets marketed like a new wireless speaker on Kickstarter. In Chapter 2 of our lives, the drinking was unrestrained and approved of until you got a DUI or got drunk and committed some domestic violence. Alcohol lived in the culture. You were expected to work hard and play harder. How late could you stay up drinking and still make PT? We joked about how we could smell tequila coming out of someone on that 0730 ruck march. Back in the barracks we joked about still being drunk for at least half of PT. High fives all around! In the field, all we talked about getting this camouflage off and popping a beer. Although once, I recall, after having spent 5 days in the field, we snuck my buddy Butch out to grab cases of beer while we were still turning in our sensitive items and cleaning weapons, and still had camouflage painted faces and hands. Drunk in camo. High fives all around!

We solved all of our problems with a lot of booze. We drank to lost brothers and shitty leaders. Popping a few in the Day Room was as important to us as the training we had done that day. I recently saw a survey asking if you had “binge-drank” in the last 30 days. Binge-drinking was defined as 5 or more drinks in one setting, 4 if you were a female. I know plenty of brothers and sisters who binge-drank their way through a 20-year enlistment, before dinner each night. As I think back, I find it ironic, albeit sad, that we used to highly praise and respect this one NCO who had the best spit-shined boots in the world, knowing full well he drank a sixer of Busch Lite while doing it and before driving home. While we honored it and joked about it, he worked his way into a huge drinking problem which caught him a DUI, and then caused him to miss reporting to required schools which got him demoted, forever reducing his retirement. Another drank so hard that they found him in the arms room passed out one morning, surrounded by bottles and cans. He got treatment, did it again, and got discharged about 19 months short of retirement.

So, here we are in Chapter 3 of our lives, with an unchecked and hysterical drinking problem and a new culture that perpetuates it for a totally different reason. Many of us who make it to Chapter 3 of our lives, leave service more battered than the Colonel’s chicken. Many Warriors really step up their drinking game in Chapter 3 because of this. Many have seen some horrifying things that neither man nor beast should never see, lost a part of themselves that they need to survive, gave something of themselves for the greater good but the self bad, or struggle with moral injuries that may never heal. Some just can’t, won’t, or don’t adjust to Chapter 3 as I discussed in disabilities and depression. So, they drink.

In fact, there is a new culture that makes the Warrior feel it is OK to drink heavy because they have PTSD, bumps and boo boos, or just hate civilian life. The internal culture paints itself as an unfixably-broken human who must suffer in their cups. This false, yet real-life meme depicts a broken, drunk jerk who naturally must end his life in suicide or “accidental” overdose. This culture of lies is dragging down a repairable leader of society that has fallen prey to some stupid ideal that he will go out like a Warrior and find his way to Valhalla. He goes to counseling for his PTSD or other mental health issues but not his drinking or drug abuse when scientific studies say the both MUST be addressed together as part of a co-morbid treatment plan.

As Warriors, we must stop this horribly-framed, freak art show. We must not give in to the belief that it’s cool, funny, or expected. In some ways, it is expected from our civilian sector, because we display it and put it on some pedestal. From the days of the World Wars, Korea, and Vietnam, some Warriors came home and perpetuated the “crazy old shell-shocked Vet” “the dangerous dope-smoking Vietnam Vet.” Now, the picture has just changed a little. Now it is the dangerous, excessively tattooed, hard-drinking, limping, PTSD-riddled, Warrior who ends his life in a fiery crash of metal and poison.

It’s time for a new picture. It’s time to help apply a new coat of paint to our brother’s and sister’s ugly wall. It’s time to no longer accept this picture we paint as normal, allowed, or expected. I expect that you and I will get our shit together. It’s also time that we realize that this little drinking game we played as kids isn’t a game anymore. It’s your life and it’s your death. It’s time we stop allowing the final act of this story to be a Doctor standing at your hospital bed, with your family around you, saying all he can do is provide something for the pain, nothing more. It’s time we recognized that we have a problem that needs addressing. It is no longer good enough to just admit you have a drinking problem. It’s a problem that needs to be addressed, likely for a long time.

For some, it is an outright alcohol addiction that needs medical attention while you detox and then while you get clean. Some don’t understand that. I have a great brother who jokingly classifies people into the following categories: cans, cant’s, shouldn’ts, and don’ts. If I recall properly, the definitions are: cans can drink without issue; can’ts can’t drink because of legal or medical reasons; shouldn’ts shouldn’t drink because they break out in fights, accidents, or other legal, amoral or unethical behavior; don’ts don’t drink because they simply choose not to. But, I sent him a text a few weeks ago saying he needed to amend his concept, adding “musts”. Some must. Their body, their demons, their psyche, their very being compels it. They can’t be classified as anything else because they don’t fit in with the other two choices or two ramifications of their choices. They simply must. Without intervention, there is nothing they can do. So, intervene we must. It will require some medical intervention in the form of detox along with psychological and addiction counseling, and possibly medical help or prescription.

So, let’s help prevent Jack, Bud, Jim, Johnny, Jose and all their friends from trying to kill us. Let us ditch the culture that because we served we get to drink, die and go to Valhalla. Let us deal with that last part first to clear things up. Valhalla and Folkvangr are where slain Warriors go in Norse mythology. Odin and Freyja split them 50/50 into their kingdoms. There is never a mention in any text that says those who drink or drug themselves to death, or take their own lives, get to go to either location. Valhalla means hall of the slain. Folkvangr means field of the host. Both are open for Warriors slain in a noble cause, not from having drowned in the Battle of Jack Daniels. Mad now? Good. The bullshit culture ends here. There is nobility in what you did in Chapter 2. But that doesn’t give you the right to do what you do in Chapter 3. Nor does it make us noble. We can no longer accept this in us or our brethren any more than we would in our own children, parents or siblings. If you are a “must”, seek and stick with the professional help that is available through the VA, TRICARE or your insurance. Let us remain noble, healthy, and alive to continue to serve this grateful Nation.

—SGM DTB—

The Folly of Faith

For those who got scared off and thought I would be quoting Bible scriptures, have no fear. This installment is talking about faith, not religion. Faith has many forms in our life. In Chapter 2, faith was everywhere. Faith in friends, family, the car starting when it needs to, our POTUS will make the right decision, in our brethren, in our relationships. So, why is it we threw it all away in Chapter 3 of our lives until we hit rock bottom and then demand that which we have faith in to stand up and fight for us? Where the hell did it go?

Let’s start with faith in Chapter 1 of our lives, before our service to this beautiful country we live in. As children, most of us were given our faith by our parents. In my generation (insert, ok boomer, here) our parents handed to us faith in some God or idol or prophet. We were told that it was important so we blindly followed along until we were capable of making our own decision. Many of us were also told to have faith in law enforcement, our teachers, our religious purveyors, and our family. And we did, maybe naively, maybe out of our faith in our parental units. It was likely by rote. Just trusting because we were told to, which isn’t real faith, it’s following. More of a socialist-type faith than a democratic faith, to inject the only politics you will ever see me do.

So, then, we made the decision to join our Nation’s Armed Forces. Again, on rote faith that it “would change your life” or “its what you should do” or “it worked for your father, so it will work for you” or “do it or go to jail, boy” (totally different article for later). In basic training, or as you Air Force peeps call it, summer camp, we were taught to be trustworthy and to trust in our brethren, first by rote, then by deeds. As they say, fake it until you make it. And that is what we did. We weren’t sure about that kid from New Jersey or the farm boy from the mid-west. Hell, I wasn’t sure about myself. Slowly, but surely, we started to believe in something; the process. We believed that this training and spending 24/7 with like-minded soon-to-be Warriors would yield an unbreakable bond.

And then we went to our first duty station. And our next. I remember my second duty station as a young and dumb Private First Class. An aircraft rappelling accident had caused the severe, paralyzing injuries of a young Warrior and we were part of the accident investigation. Our task? Recreate the accident to determine what went wrong. “PFC Bean, grab your gear and meet us at the rappel tower.” So, down we went to the tower. The concept? Throw PFC Bean off the rappel tower in various possible screwed up ways to see if we could recreate it. Cool. Wait, what? You want to do what? Trust me, said then SSG Stone, someone who would be my best friend and big brother to my daughter, and then later be killed in action by friendly fire in some country called Crapistan or something. So, I looked into his eyes and trusted him, over and over again as I launched myself off and inverted so many times I became violently sick. But, I wasn’t scared. I trusted him, and so, it began.

And so, I spent 23 years implicitly trusting my brethren. Ridiculous amounts of time on the range with newer Warriors handling machine guns, live fire exercises, rock climbing, scaling Mt McKinley tied to two brothers with thousands of feet of death on both sides of a two foot wide summit ridge. Never a flinch. These are only a few stories that we can all share. Many people reading this have multiple deployments in multiple theaters trusting their brethren. Along with that faith in the Warrior’s beside us, we had faith in so many things. Faith that our spouse was taking care of the household, our children, our very existence in the outside world. We trusted in our immediate and distant leadership that what we were doing was for good reason and well planned. We trusted that Uncle Sugar would take care of us if something bad happened like an injury or worse, like if we had to travel home under a red, white, and blue draped coffin. We just had faith. Some would call it reckless trust. Sure, I can see that. When I gather with my brethren, we tell these war stories as if to challenge the other’s faith to see who believed more, like two vestil virgins on the edge of the volcano wanting to outdo each other. Those who aren’t around to tell their story were the first virgins to jump, and the winner of the faith challenge that nobody wants to win but will take that trophy any day of the week, still. Summing it all up, we had faith in so many things.

Then, we put down our right hand, took off our uniform, and threw our equipment, and our faith, at some idiot civilian at the CIF who we later realized was one of us, a retired Warrior. And when we went back to Fort Living Room, faithless, we had no idea what we had done. We had turned in our faith like a dirty canteen. We had zero faith in our employer, our family to understand what we were going through, our new “friends”, or any of our local and National leaders we once answered to. We now questioned everything we had faith in, everything. We questioned if we had done the right thing, had served a good cause. And the first time we opened the door of faith to folly, folly jumped in and refused to budge like a Sherman tank. Was ANYthing we did worth it? Is anything in this stupid new job of any value? Are any of my co-workers worth the $20 an hour they are paid? Is the Nation worth saving?

And then folly starts to infiltrate our self-worth. Do we have faith in ourselves? Do we have faith in our newly-refined meaning of life? Do we faith in our spouse? It’s not paranoia like many think. I have spoken with countless Veterans whose family think they are paranoid or don’t understand them. NEWS FLASH fo my brethren: you don’t understand you either. You think you know you and your reactions to certain things but if I were a betting man, and I am, I am betting that in your rediscovery of who you are and who everyone else is, you are portraying yourself as someone different than who you really are. It is only natural to think that we are still that cold-steel killer of commies, lover of women, beer-cooled, MRE-fed, barrel-chested, freedom fightin’ SOB we once were. Oh oh oh my brethren, well, no. If you have been following this blog at all, you would understand why Chapter 3 is very different than Chapter 2, for good reason. THIS is where we grow my brothers and sisters.

Seriously SGM, you couldn’t have just told me this crap up front? Nope. You wouldn’t have bought to it in without the reason behind it. We grow by understanding the levels of faith we have in things, the trust we let out, and the belief that anything can have meaning. So, it is time to gain back our faith, in anything. Time to fake it until we make it, like in Chapter 1. Listen, it is not going to be easy. Our faith will be tested and it may be disappointed. But, if we don’t have faith in something or in ourselves then we are going to struggle. The faith doesn’t have to be absolute, life or death. But when we have faith, we have hope. When we have hope, we have perseverance. When we have perserverance, we have success. If we are to have success in our transition from Chapter 2 to Chapter 3, we must start with faith.

So have faith my Warrior brethren. Believe in your family, the VA, your coworkers, your new friends, your boss, our neighbors, your local and National leaders. When you have faith, even a little, you let people in a little. When you let people in, you share some of you. Sharing some of you helps others understand you, understand our Warrior ways and makes Chapter 3 much easier and better for all of us. I have faith in you.

—SGM DTB—

My Life Has No Meaning

As part of my continuing thread of discipline and action in Chapter 3 of our lives, post-Service, I know that many of us feel that our lives no longer have any meaning. We go through the day to day grind, doing only what needs to be done, not really feeling excited about it, thinking it has no meaning in comparison to Chapter 2, our time in Service. The daily tasks and excitement in Chapter 2 gave us a desire to get up every day, to put on that uniform, to interact with our brethren, to do great and varied things, to challenge ourselves and others. Now, not so much. We become complacent with the boredom, not doing the things we need to do, like we talked about in Discipline or Disaster, just going through the motions to get to the next meal, the next drink, the next text, the next mission in Call of Duty.

Let’s start out by talking about the perceived differences in meaning between Chapter 2 and 3. In Chapter 2, our time in Service, we served a greater calling, a greater good, something bigger than ourselves. We served an entire Nation, training to be able to deter aggression, around the world, against the weak or oppressed. We fought the bully, we stood up for what was right, defeated or punished those that were wrong, removed dangerous despots and dictators who committed terrible acts of genocide, mass imprisonment, executing protesters to keep the public down. Whether we practiced organized religion or not, we believed we served our God’s will. We were right and might over blight. We were such well trained machines that even the thought of us arriving could end oppression, chase dictators to other lands. We were Superman, Aqua Man, Wonder Woman, Captain America, Captain Marvel, The Fantastic Four and Iron Man all wrapped in a camouflage cape. I mean, we were amazing, doing amazing things.

Old Soldier – Marvel™

Now, we are salesmen, teachers, carpenters, small businessmen, insurance reps, mail carriers, plumbers and a host of other jobs that aren’t doing a damn thing to save the world or defeat any horrible despot, in our mind. Our boss doesn’t trust us to go outside for a smoke without having to sign out of the office or send him an email. We are not tasked with any real sense of responsibility, just making widgets until our next break, lunch or the end of day whistle. Our tasks are so mundane that the bosses nephew, who didn’t graduate high school, can do them to a sufficient level to collect a paycheck, likely greater than ours. Not only are we not super heroes anymore, but we are just another body on the subway, another patron at the bar, another employee ID number (I am number 3 by the way), just another John Q Public. We have never felt so useless. Even in Chapter 1, our childhood, at least we were cute and our parents fawned over us. Now, most people in the office barely know our name, much less what we have done, the crap we have seen, or the lives we have protected. What a depressing scene, bro.

Those feelings, and many more are felt by more than just Warriors every day. They are felt by the average American worker, who, day in and day out works his fingers to the bone for something seemingly unimportant. I see the comments on social media; “you are working your butt off for an employer who will replace you within 24 hours of your death.” Maybe the Warrior, and his civilian counterpart have forgotten about the importance of the complete industrial and retail base in American, and its vitality to this Nation. Right now, we are in the midst of a worldwide pandemic, the COVID-19 virus. In our country, schools are closed down, most businesses are closed, save a few essential stores, like liquor stores and grocery stores and gas stations. Mothers and fathers are having to work from home or not work at all to watch their children. The service industry is mostly shutdown with all of your friends who serve you drinks and bring you pulled pork sandwiches sitting at home wondering when this will be over. Government employees, home. Waste disposal, reduced to minimal operations. Elective procedures? No. Routine healthcare? No. Shopping for new shoes? Nope. Amazon deliveries? Oh yes, cause, well, it is Amazon after all. So, all those “meaningless jobs” we now realize are extremely important to our life.

We have figured out that sports athletes aren’t our heroes, its the college girl who brings us shot after shot at the bar. It’s not the movie star that helps us, it is the guy who answers the phone at the insurance company because we still managed to ding our bumper. It’s not the weather guy who shows up at every hurricane, it’s the guy who can fix our leaky faucet that is driving.us.nuts. Drip drip drip. It’s not the politician who makes our life better, it is the school teacher who teaches my precious grand babies instead of them having to move in with me and HH6 for a month or more. It’s not the guy who plays the newest rap tune, it’s that farmer who is still working his ass off to get food to MY table tonight; to your babies breakfast tomorrow.

So, maybe those jobs aren’t meaningless. Maybe it is okay I am a plumber, or carpenter, or delivery guy. Maybe everything everyone does contributes to the greater good after all. Maybe this boring day to day, not give a crap, not improve my position, just get complacent in my own boring skin, is better than I thought. Maybe if I felt a little better about what I am doing to contribute I wouldn’t get complacent. Maybe I would do more, try harder, give a little extra, tolerate that idiot boss of mine (not mine FYI just in case he reads this). This is important. Complacency leads us down a bad road. IF we are not satisfied, not fulfilled, not feeling like we are contributing, we will seek other alternatives to give us that rush, that fulfillment. A lot of these things are not so awesome for us. Dangerous activity like riding the bike too hard, alcohol and drug over use, risky sexual behavior, fights at bars, and negative thoughts about living or dying.

Don’t get me wrong. Nothing will likely give you the feeling of self-worth like dragging your 180 lb buddy out of the direct line of fire, like dropping from the sky with 100 of your best friends, like climbing a steep mountainside roped to another Warrior. Let’s face it, you were getting a life time worth of adventure, team building and adrenaline building activities in a very short time. It may never be AS thrilling as that. But it doesn’t mean that it can’t still be good. Accept good. There is nothing wrong with good. A lot of people will never be blessed to feel good. And, if the day to day is not enough, even though you now understand it’s s important, try something more. While I worked for the government developing combat equipment after I retired from the Army, despite how cool and fulfilling that was, I felt the need to help my brethren more.

So, I started a Veteran non profit. Building that from the ground up was exhilarating and fulfilling, more than enough. Go volunteer at a soup kitchen. That, too, was very fulfilling and gave me a good sense of balance and gratefulness. Go mow your neighbor’s lawn. Go play checkers with your elderly Sergeant Major. PS, let him win because he gets grumpy easy. Ok, he is always grumpy. My point is, don’t think what you do isn’t important and don’t get complacent with your day to day grind. Get out and do something if you think your job isn’t fulfilling enough. Workout, learn something, read that book again, help someone else, help you.

During these difficult times of stress and virus and unemployment, don’t just sit and watch the negativity on the boob tube all day. Do something. Be positive, change your game up a little, go help someone. I hope you all stay safe. Don’t just sit there and be angry about how Chapter 3 is meaningless. Your life DOES have meaning. You are destined for meaning, for good, great, and amazing. Go find that destiny. Don’t forget to check in on your elderly neighbor, via phone, of course. Be safe my friends.

—SGM DTB—

I Wouldn’t Run Into a Burning Building for Me

I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t set foot inside. For you, your family, my brethren, my family, a stranger? Oh hell yes, without thinking. But not for me. Why not you ask?

For those who spent more than a day in uniform (not to exclude our first responders), you know the answer. Because “I” am not important. Business leaders and coaches spew the rhetoric of there is no I in team, son. They do so in an attempt to rally the team or group into some kind of temporary success; a new contract, faster production, or a win over State. But, in Chapter 2 of our lives, our time in service, our very sense of importance that was built up by Mom and Dad in Chapter 1, growing up, is violently and quickly stripped away. All of it, gone with the blink of an eye and the scream of a guy wearing Smokey the Bear’s hat. As we progress through Chapter 2, at our first duty station, “you mean nothing, only the Fire Team or section matters” is perpetuated and glorified.

During this time of personal growth, we learn that our personal growth is not for us, but for the team, the squad, the platoon. Sure, they want you to develop professionally, get smarter, stronger, more experienced, etc, but it’s not really for you. Sure, four times a year you will be counseled on your performance, but truly it relates to you being a member of a team. So few leaders care what happens to you in Chapter 3, only that you help the team in Chapter 2. Don’t get me wrong, many leaders do care, but the system does not. The Army mission is further broken down into a Mission Essential Task List (METL) which is further broken down into individual and collective tasks flowing back up to victory.

Act as an individual, not perform as a sacrificing member of the team and you will receive correction. Sometimes it’s a simple verbal correction, sometimes it’s a screaming session meant to make you feel less important. Or you might report on Saturday for School of the Soldier, a serious one-sided physical smoke show where your vision grows dimmer along with your hydration status. Or if handled internally, you will meet your buddy’s socks and learn what kind of soap they use. Spoiler alert, they use very hard soap! Very.hard.soap.

All this seemingly foolish psychology develops our Armed Forces into lean, mean fightin’ machines capable of death, destruction, compassion, and liberation. It develops teams capable of anything, in any environment, day or night. It develops complete trust and faith knowing that we all have each other’s backs and are always there for one another. It creates a terribly self – destructive Warrior in Chapter 3 of his life, after Service, who will help all his brethren without question but will have to be fought tooth and nail to take care of their own stuff. So, no, I won’t run into a burning building for me. It would be selfish and neglect the greater good, so I am told.

I see Warriors helping Warriors all the time. Rides to the VA, helpful advice, a shoulder to lean on, an ear to lend, a few bucks to pay a bill. But, particularly with Gen Xers, I see Warriors struggling with their own shit as they help the other guy. I see so many Warriors who have not focused on themselves for so long, they have no idea how to. Talking with one the other day who is about to transition from Chapter 2 to Chapter 3 and he was remarkably clueless and angry already. Where am I going to work, who will I hang out with, how do I do the VA crap, civilian life sucks. He hadn’t read Leave the Attitude at the CIF, yet, apparently. We, as a Department of Defense, do such a great job at removing the “I in team” over a bunch of years, 23 in my case, and then spend zero time building them back up as individuals. Zero time, period, over and out.

This likely plays into Warriors taking their own lives at an above-average rate. If we are taught we don’t matter, think of everyone else first, work as a team, it is understandable that we would feel like we don’t matter in the end. But, we are wrong. While we were being torn down as an individual, we were secretly just being assigned another role. The role of caregiver, superhero, best friend, trustworthy partner. You really did matter because without you being so strong, so smart, so experienced, the team wouldn’t be as strong, we wouldn’t be capable of completing the mission. Well, guess what buttercup, we still need you on the team. The team has just changed. It involves spouses and children and coworkers and friends and brethren. So, you have to work on being strong, and smart and experienced so that we can all navigate Chapter 3 together, with our partners, etc. You must go to your Drs appointments, work on your education, your physical fitness, your emotional strength, and your faith.

So, you know what, I guess I will run into a burning building for me. I will treat myself with the same honor, respect, and care that I do for everyone else. I will work on me, I will fix me. I will save me. How else am I going to be around long enough to save all you freaking bozos who don’t have your crap together? Stay safe brothers and sisters. And don’t forget to rush into that building…for you.

—SGM DTB—

Disabilities and Depression

I contemplated whether I should co-mingle these two topics as they can be light years apart and not related. But, the fact that medically speaking, they can be referred to as co-morbid, made me keep them together. While depression can certainly stand alone like the cheese, it is very directly attached to other disabilities, injuries, and illnesses.

First, let’s define depression. “Depression is a mood disorder that causes a persistent feeling of sadness and loss of interest. Also called a major depressive disorder or clinical depression, it affects how you feel, think and behave and can lead to a variety of emotional and physical problems. You may have trouble doing normal day-to-day activities, and sometimes you may feel as if life isn’t worth living.”

We all know what a disability is. So, how are the two intertwined and what do we do to work our way through this? In this case, we are talking about the depression that can naturally come from having a disability, injury or illness, here forward just referred to as disability. Generally, the disability comes first and as a result, the depression follows. The biggest issue involves only treating the underlying disability, not addressing the associated depression which only makes the disability worse. As we all know from recent reports, stress is an underlying cause of poor healing and exacerbated injuries.

So how did we get here? We were once on top of our game. Now we are broken to some extent, it’s their fault, it’s impossible to get my claim approved, the VA care sucks, nobody understands and nobody cares. I see this every day in my research, over and over. Again, in most of these cases, the disability and its inherent processes caused depression. The government has not made it easy and their processes, or lack thereof, may be to blame for both the disability and the co-morbid depression.

Let’s start from the beginning, Chapter 2, our military service. Somehow or some way we get injured or incur an illness caused by or exacerbated by our life in uniform. The battle now begins. If we don’t document this, the battle is mostly lost already. Knowing how few injuries I reported in my career, including multiple TBIs and a fractured hyoid bone (look that up), all potentially fatal, I can only imagine what others who trained and fought harder than I did never reported. But, let’s assume you have been seen by your Warrior-healer, and he hasn’t been busy losing your shot records, again (you know who you are). Or the engagement was documented by Operations. A few years down the road we decide to transition to Chapter 3, our life after Service. The military and the VA still do not have the same electronic medical records system so all documents must be on paper. Who even does that any more? Even Amazonian native tribes have access to the telegraph system. But the largest employer in the country can’t speak to the largest health care provider in the world. A new system is on the way with a contract recently let, but years in the making.

So, we go to our final medical appointments and are so happy to get out at this point, we feel fine. And if you are like the dumbest SGM in the world, you promptly misplace those records anyway in your final PCS move. Then we file whatever paper copies we have with the VA and pray there was sufficient documentation to justify our disability. Then, we have to go to an appointment to do the same thing we just did while out-processing. Except, it’s by really old Dr’s who are being paid crap to get through a stack of records for the day to keep ahead of the 150,000 backlogged claims. How did that go? So, we spend another year waiting and appealing and documenting and waiting and stressing and waiting until we finally get that letter that says our horrifying degenerative arthritis at 40 years old is not the military’s fault.

But, they will help you with treatment, as long as you don’t make too much money so you can pay for your own health insurance to cover the treatment for not being able to hear out of your left ear because of explosions because you were told it’s normal for your age. I guess I missed in my biology class that it is normal to not hear out of one ear while the other works perfectly. But, I skipped school a lot. If you are still reading this, and aren’t depressed from this stupid process, God bless you. Can you imagine going to your private Dr and being treated this way? Now can you see how disability can cause depression?

Hey, this is no problem, Big Sarge. I got this. In Chapter 2, I was taught to face out, take a knee, change my socks and drink water. FIDO, F*** it and Drive On. While that may work for fatigue and minor booboos, it does not work for depression. Depression must be treated. What are the two most popular evidence-based methods of treating depression? Medication and Cognitive – Based Therapy. Annnnd 19 million Warriors just collectively groaned because what are the two things that Warriors hate the most, besides a barracks thief? You guessed it. Talking with someone about their feeeeelings and being a zombie from taking pills. It’s witchcraft, voodoo, stupid, a waste of time and some other choice words I shall not name. Well, my brothers and sisters, it is not.

Let’s talk first about the medication used to treat depression. These meds are not designed to necessarily cure your depression, rather provide a safer way to feel better, called harm reduction, than self-medication like alcohol, drugs, risky behavior, promiscuity, or self-harm. These meds are very tricky and act differently for each person. The various meds along with various prescription amounts combined with an unseen foe that they are supposed to attack with subjective symptoms make it hard to get right the first time, second time or even third time! So, sometimes we will feel groggy, like a zombie or just want to lay around all day and fight our Warrior discipline that is telling us to go mow the lawn, the right way. Give it time to level you out. You will find your peaks and valleys not so far apart and a general feeling of calm.

What proper, prescribed medication will also do is help you get to some cognitive-based therapy. It will bring you up enough to make the decision to help yourself. You have had the courage and desire to do it all along but the depression has stood in the way. Now, the meds lighten that load enough, hide the depression enough to just get you there. The reason for your depression needs to be addressed, not just self-medicated through or even just take meds to cover it up. This is where the courage of a Warrior roars. This is where we make our money. In our military operations, we spend most of our time rehearsing the Actions on the Objective. The things we do when we meet the enemy in a place of our choosing. Well, cognitive-based therapy is the place of our choosing. The enemy is depression! The objective is feeling better. So, let us work on what we do when we meet the enemy. We rehearse therapy, over and over. How many times have rehearsed actions on the OBJ in Chapter 2 of our life? Thousands? Until we got it right, for good?

Well, now it’s time to rehearse our cognitive-based therapy, over and over. It is basically understanding your depression, specifically the thoughts that cause it, how it make you feel bad, and then change the way you respond to those thoughts. Reprograming the brain housing group to operate more effectively and without interruption. That is this layman’s definition. Please seek someone who is more than a Combat Life Saver for the actual concept and process. But you get the point! Along with creating the disability, whether it be a messed up back, tinnitus, loss of appendage, pain in appendage, PTSD or anything else, we must treat the co-morbid depression.

Look, I’m not in your shoes. I have my share of crap, you have yours. You are different than me, I am different than you. I respond differently to treatment and meds than you do. I don’t know what you are going through, you don’t know what I am going through. But what I do know is this, if left untreated, depression will ruin you life just as quick as your disability. It will erode you as a Warrior, taking your family, friends, fitness, fun, faith, employment and community along with it. It will tear down your pillars of life like they were sand in the ocean. You have it in you to work to resolve this pain and suffering, to ditch this bug infested monkey on your back. So, let’s get it done Warrior.

Are you the family or friend of a Warrior who has depression along with some disability? If so, please understand the difficulty that this Warrior is going through. Your task, love them and help them get to help. I hate talking about my feelings, so you may have to drag me there, kicking and screaming like an over-caffeinated two-year-old. But get them there you must. I hope this has shed some light on the subject enough that you can help yourself or help someone who needs it and that you will share this with all your friends. Taking care of our Warriors who hurt because of service is all of our responsibility. So, let’s all get smart about this. See you on the objective!

—SGM DTB—

Discipline or Disaster?

Ok, which one of you heroes hid my discipline? Seriously? Did I leave it at CIF with my attitude? I know many of you are asking the same question. What happened to that get up at O dark thirty, do more before 9 am than most people do all day, spit shine my boots each night, and Yes Sir all day long discipline? This is one of things that made us who we are, or were.

But, here we are, a few years down the road with a beer belly that could tell a lot of stories of nights gone wild, long hair, a sorry excuse for a beard, and the only PT in sight is a visit to the massage parlor. How did this happen? In Chapter 2, my time in service, I was a beast. In Chapter 3, my life after service, I only smell like a beast. Tell me you haven’t been there. Maybe you are there now.

So, let’s talk about how this happens. First, the building of discipline in Chapter 2. From the moment we enter service, discipline is the foundation of literally everything. Everything we are taught to do involves the application of unquestioned, unmitigated discipline. When your Drill Instructors scream at you to do something, the only thing out of your mouth better be YES DRILL SERGEANT while you perform the task exactly as they have described over and over. It doesn’t matter if your cold, wet, tired or miserable,you do it, by rote, the same way every time. You must have the discipline to do what needs to be done, the way it must be done, whether you want to or not, whether you can or not! This is how we build a fighting force capable of fighting and winning on every battlefield.

I spent a lot of time conducting cold weather and mountain operations in the most extreme and austere of environments. I have trained at -98° with the wind chill; at 20,000 feet above sea level tied to a rope on a 4-foot wide ridge with thousands of feet on either side; rappeled out of a helicopter in winds that were too high. (Judi you should skip this part) The one thing that kept me and my brethren alive, discipline. Dressing up and down as the temperature and level of effort changed. Tying knots with large gloves in the dark. Ten thousand opportunities to die. But, rarely worried because I was disciplined, physically and mentally tough.

In Chapter 1, as I grew up around my hero, the first Sergeant Major Bean, I knew discipline. It applied to our fishing, our hunting, learning to drive and in building a garage. This formed the basis of my discipline.

As I grew up in Chapter 2, I learned discipline from some great leaders. Special Forces Vietnam Veterans, Rangers, Task Force 160 pilots. They instilled it in me through their words and through their actions. As I got to be a junior leader, I got to be the one to teach younger Warriors through my words and actions. I know one West Point cadet, later LTC, remembers my discipline lesson to this day. Then, when I became a senior leader it was imperative that I lived every moment as the shining example of discipline. Not always easy to do as we are all human so I probably had a slip here or there. The act of setting the example of proper discipline is exhausting. Simply exhausting. Everything you do, from training to physical fitness, from eating to marksmanship, from going to the bathroom to briefing leaders, disciplined, period. There are no grey areas, no levels of discipline. A Warrior is simply disciplined. And for those of us who grew up in President Reagan’s zero-defect Army, it was even worse.

And on we go the next chapter in life, Chapter 3, our life as a Veteran. The exhaustion, the daily push to be the perfect Warrior, now doesn’t exist. Oh, we try, in the beginning. We join a local gym, still get up at O dark thirty and cut our lawn with ridiculous perfection. And then it happens. We age and we forget. Our bodies start to break down and we forget why we are still doing 100 pushups before work. We see our new friends partying and enjoying life. And boom, we drink and eat a little more, workout a little less, the lawn looks like it was mowed with a tomahawk missile, we sleep in on the weekends, we shave our face with the same tomahawk missile we mowed the lawn with, and we stop following all the safety rules we beat into our Private’s thick skulls.

I think we all know that this leads to disaster. So, what are we to do? We can’t maintain perfection our whole life. It’s just not feasible or fun. What we can do is maintain a different level of discipline, of perfection. We don’t need to be perfect in Chapter 3. But, we can still be disciplined. We know how good it feels to bring order to our lives, to have discipline, to have a plan, a schedule, a path to each day. Chaos is crazy, order is sanity. My Household 6 will tell you how I feel about order and how it drives her nuts. I can tell you how it prevents me from going nuts.

So, Warriors, let’s bring back some discipline into our lives. I said discipline, not perfection. There are no benefits to being perfect, nor any repercussions for not being perfect. There are rewards for being disciplined though. Let’s remember some of those skills we were taught that helped us be disciplined. First, do it whether you want to or not. That is likely the hardest. This couch I am typing away on seems an awful long way from my next work out. It is closer to my bottle of Jack. But only one of these things are going to kill me.

Maintain your gear in Chapter 3 the same you did in Chapter 2. It’s even more important now than in Chapter 2 because you paid for all of it! So, mow the lawn on schedule, put your clothes away, fix that broken flag pole, tighten up the wheels on your kid’s toy, change the oil in your 4X4. You know what I am getting at. Not only do what you have to do but do it the way it is supposed to be done. The couch, the burger, the whiskey will all wait.

I would be remiss if I didn’t reference Admiral McRaven’s commencement speech at UT in that you are going to make mistakes. You are going to slip up. Lord knows I have. I have focused solely on partying, avoiding PT and just being as undisciplined as possible. Likely a result of the overwhelming and exhausting need to be perfect. A revolt from virtue. But, discipline brought me back. I quit drinking and quit eating so much, got back to regular PT, took more pride in my lawn, my healthcare and hence, my life. I still slip, I’m human. But today I won’t slip, I will go do PT after I proofread this a couple of times. I will eat right tonight and avoid Jack and Bud.

So, be disciplined, at least for today, make mistakes, but accept them as proof you no longer need to be perfect. Don’t beat yourself up over them, it’s exhausting. Do what needs to be done, the way it must be done, whether you want to or not, whether you can or not! And read more of my blog to keep you focused. Until next time!

—SGM DTB—

Warrior Operations

As we discuss the transition of the Warrior from Chapter 2, their military service, to Chapter 3, their post-service life, we sometimes have to talk to Warriors in a language they understand. This is not because we, the Warrior, don’t speak the “normal” language of life, but because we have been given a new common language to ensure the rapid transmission of information from level to level. So this week, as I talk about transition, I will use the analogy of the different types of military operations. Throughout time, the titles change a little here and there but the concepts remain the same. I will use the Army terms because, well, I was in the Army (and I ran out of crayons).

Types of Operations. There are four general types of operations in the military: OFFENSIVE OPERATIONS: The purpose of offensive operations is to change the course of events in our favor — and these types of operations usually include violence and force. DEFENSIVE OPERATIONS: During a defensive operation, military forces will protect themselves, their area of operations (commonly called the AO) and any property contained in the AO. STABILITY OPERATIONS: Stability operations hold military situations together during tenuous times. SUPPORT OPERATIONS: Support operations provide reinforcement to local authorities, both foreign and domestic, during times of need. Let’s discuss how these types of military operations are actually Warrior Operations as well.

Too often we exclude or separate our lives in the military from our life out of the military or that of civilians. We equate our military service with “our life,” always make comparisons to that life and that of those whom haven’t served. But really, if we are truly a Warrior, then our life in uniform is merely a subset of our Warrior life. And our life as a Warrior is merely a subset of human life. Ipso facto why don’t we apply what we learned in Chapter 2 to Chapter 3? If we are a Warrior, then we must continue to learn, train, and live according to the 4 types of operations. How? Let’s break each one down and compare Chapter 2 and 3 along the way.

Offensive Operations. To recap, the purpose of offensive operations is to change the course of events in our favor. Characteristics of a good offense are surprise, concentration, audacity and tempo. So, as Warriors in Chapter 3, how do we execute these characteristics and to what end? Well, first of all, the purpose of offensive operations in Chapter 3 is also to change the course of events in our favor. Meaning we want to take the issues we face in transition such as loss of friends, new employment, new role in life, new ways to have fun and spending time with family, and change the course of heading down the wrong path.

We need to audaciously seek employment or education with a strong but maintainable tempo, one we can get to the objective with safely. We need to focus on this operation, set aside distractions like missing the military, our friends, and our desire to party like we are Rick James in 1970. When we gather all these forces together with the right pace and attitude we can be successful. Mind you, like any good conflict, there are many offensive operations going on at once. If we were to only conduct one, the enemy, sloth, debauchery and poor behavior, could sneak in. So, we conduct these operations at home with our families, within the local community, in our faith, and in our health and well-being.

With any offensive operation in Chapter 2, we need 3 basic geographical things: a line of departure, a direction of attack, and an objective. In Chapter 2, we spends hours and days planning these 3 major parts. In Chapter 3, we need to figure where we are in our education or employability, relationships and interactions with the community. Are we employable with a decent enough skillset to get a job that will help maintain our family, us included? Are we involved with our community, our little league teams, volunteering at the soup kitchen, helping our elderly neighbor mow their lawn, attending town meetings? Are we engaged in our family life, not just deciding what everyone will do to keep us happy but really engaged with them? Are we going to recitals, really caring about our spouse blabbing in our ear about their feelings and how their day was?

Do we have an objective and a plan to get there with checkpoints along the way to measure our pace to the goal and verify we are on the right path? What is the objective? A bachelors degree? Or learning a new trade? Being a better parent and spouse? Write this stuff down boys and girls, just like we did in Chapter 2. In Chapter 2, we wrote it all out, drew it out on a map or sand table and rehearsed the crap out of it so it was ingrained in our head. Do the same in Chapter 3. Path, timeline, checkpoints, objective. And don’t forget, we need a plan to recognize the objective. What does success look like?

During a defensive operation, military forces will protect themselves in Chapter 2. Characteristics of a good defense include preparation, security, disruption, mass and concentration, and flexibility. In Chapter 3, things are no different. The main thing we are defending is our health and well-being, physical and mental. In Chapter 2, we were taught to set up our defensive position in conjunction with other members of our team, make sure we have overlapping security, develop a rest plan, constantly improve our position, be flexible in our set up, and be prepared for attacks of various types, overhead, direct fire, pysops, the environment.

First, in Chapter 3, we ensure that we are working with fellow Veterans, our VA or medical providers, our family, our church, and our community to ensure we are working towards overlapping goals of safety and the promotion of good mental and physical health. We work with this “unit” to be prepared for attacks of any kind; physical, mental, emotional, spiritual and social. We set about our priorities of work focusing on health and welfare and never stop improving our position by containing to go to counseling, medical appointments, addiction meetings and by working our bodies like a Warrior if we are able. We must sure ourselves financially as well, spending less than we earn, preparing for that rainy day. We also have to be flexible. A lot of things can happen. We aren’t in a controlled environment anymore. We aren’t in Chapter 2 anymore. When it rains in Chapter 3, it sucks.

Stability operations hold military situations together during tenuous times. In Chapter 2, STABOS puts the military in direct contact with the local civilians to restructure or reset their interactions with their government. In Chapter 3, let’s call it Reverse STABOS, we must be in direct contact with our civilian community to reshape who we are and how we fit into it and the Nation as a whole. Going to the local VFW 5 nights a week isn’t what I am talking about. We, as Warriors, have a great amount to offer our community. Find out where you are needed. Be a Little League assistant coach. You know how to put together a team. It lets you make a good impression on our youth and it puts you out there with the local peeps.

Support operations provide reinforcement to local authorities, both foreign and domestic, during times of need in Chapter 2. In Chapter 3, we need to continue these operations through things like participating in Town Halls so we are involved in our government. Being part of a neighborhood watch, local CERT team, giving blood are all examples of this support to local authorities. It’s way better than having to go to your Team Leader’s house because it’s his kid’s birthday this weekend and you are “part of his family now.” Ugh. Being part of these local groups in support of our town, county, state or region is also a great way to meet like-minded people who you just might enjoy hanging out with.

In summary, be audacious and bold in your actions, protect your health and welfare, interact with the indigenous population and work within your community to make it better. Have a plan Boy Scout! But remember, the plan is only good until you start to execute it. Be flexible in your path but always move towards the objective.

So, as we wrap it up this week just after the Superbowl, remember, offense wins games but defense wins championships. Stability and support wins the hearts and minds!

—SGM DTB—

Why Doesn’t God Love the Infantry Anymore?

Belonging. We long for it, we do many things, good and bad for it. It drives us to church, sports teams, civic groups, summer camps, bars, clubs and yes, the military. It drives us. The need to belong, a core part of Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs, makes us seek out similarly minded, similarly educated, similar in body type, race, religion, or creed, those with similar goals, etc. as we seek approval, camaraderie, to fit in, and a long-term other than self group.

In Chapter 1, we bounce from one group to another, trying to find the right fit. At first, our parents seek out those groups for us, hoping to find the right one for our success in education, church, sports, play groups, and daycare. The groups are likely more based on their need for us to belong to a group of their choosing based on socio-economic ties, what they belonged to as kids, or maybe something as simple as what they could afford. We don’t always like the groups they pick out for us, sometimes rebelling against our parents, projecting our anger on that group later, quitting the group or just caring little about participating. Some groups will be lifetime relationships that will bring us and our families joy.

As we near the end of Chapter 1, we start to make more of the decisions for ourselves, many times to the chagrin of our parents. Hanging out with the bad crowd or kids from the wrong side of the tracks brought stern warnings from our loved ones. But now, faced with the dissolution of most of our groups as we depart high school, friends going their own way, groups that don’t extend to adulthood, and our parent’s insistence to figure out what we are going to do with our lives, we look to belong again. Some group affiliations may be forced upon us due to opportunities or lack thereof such as college.

So, approximately five percent of us join the military. The reasons are many, from family affiliation, as my choice was, to stay out of jail, to wanting to belong to something larger and greater than self. The latter is often closely related to or referred to as serving my country. We believe that serving our country is serving the greater good, we will be like the person we idolized growing up, will be done with like-minded people, and will provide a better future for us.

So, in Chapter 2, we join the part of the military we think we will best fit in. I joined as an Army Legal Specialist, 71D. Spent a couple of years doing that and realized I didn’t fit in, wasn’t the type person I pictured myself as, so I joined the Infantry. I loved the law, in fact, I would have gone to college for it had I not been kicked off my high school hockey team and lost my opportunity for a scholarship. Well, I thought I did. But when I looked around at Infantrymen like Gooch, Gordy, Gray, and others, I knew my real place. So, I went back to AIT and became an Infantryman. During Infantry AIT, our Drill Sergeants did many things to get us to bond and become part of an elite brotherhood, to really belong. One was to guide us in our belief that the sun rises and sets on the asses of Infantrymen. WHY IS THE SKY BLUE PRIVATES? they would demand of us. BECAUSE GOD LOVES THE INFANTRY, DRILL SERGEANT we would proclaim, never loud enough for their satisfaction!

We believed. We belonged. We finally made it. We finally found THE group. It was no longer just a wish to belong. It was no longer only an ideal. We faked it long enough to make it. It was real. We lovingly snubbed the other MOS’s, the other Services, civilians, heck even family to some extent. Belonging gave us confidence, meaning, courage, trust, love, and faith in something higher. Wow, we believed, with the strength of a thousand less equal men. There was nothing we couldn’t do. Drink all night, train and hump a ruck all day, rinse, repeat.

Then, Chapter 3 came. The sky was no longer blue, God no longer loved the Infantry. Why? Why did He do this? He didn’t. We did it. We made such a big deal of our separation from this glorious world where all the women wanted us and all the men wanted to be like us. We proclaimed that this new life sucks, along with all the lazy tree huggers in it. New bosses had no clue. Friends weren’t loyal enough. Civilians just don’t understand. After all, we led men into battle, were accountable for state of the art expensive gear, and were finely tuned machines capable of great peace or extreme violence. And the sky was blue because of it.

The funny thing is, if you check, the sky IS still blue. The problem is the sunglasses you are wearing are tainted. They are tainted with anger, longing for something new seemingly impossible to attain, longing for the good old days, and the belief that Chapter 2 is actually all the chapters and is over now. Chapter 2 is over, Chapter 3 just beginning. We have to look around us and inside us to find a new sense of belonging. Not just at our old buddies but to new relationships. I recall being at a Toby Keith concert after an Afg deployment watching my brethren, only reunited with family members days before, all gathering together chatting. Not with family, but with those they long to be with. I see it everywhere.

It is time to work on new relationships, at work, at home, at church, at the bar, at a local softball league. Having that new sense of belonging will allow us to move into Chapter 3. The belonging will not be the same. It might be better, it might be less. But, it needs to be something. When I retired after 23 years, I thought I would never find the same sense of belonging, of meaning, of something greater than me with like-minded individuals. I couldn’t have been more wrong. I worked for the government developing combat equipment for my brethren for about 9 years. Very rewarding, very meaningful, surrounded by some like-minded people like Pack Man, Scooter, and Big Mike.

Then, when I left the government for warmer pastures, I thought it was over again. O for 2 Smadge! I work with like-minded people who help blind and disabled companies develop and field combat equipment. I also spent about 10 years with some awesome people running a nonprofit helping Veterans transition and thrive. 0 for 3 big guys! The point is, there is so much meaning to be had, like-minded people out there to help change the world, or at least your little part of it, and a lot of work left to be done using your greatness.

So, don’t forget to smile at the blue sky, have faith there is more out there for you, and do your work to get there. Maybe next week we will discuss WHAT MAKES THE GRASS GROW? Until then, be kind to yourself.

—SGM DTB—

Free Chicken Found To Have Ebola

I’m betting that title really turned some heads. Yet, the content of this will likely turn some heads and anger at the same time. Ready? And before you get your Ranger panties in a bunch, read the content, understand the message.

In Chapter 2, when we talked of free chicken, we referred to the insatiable drive of the younger Soldiers to want more, free, without necessarily working for it. Give them a 4-day weekend, they want to leave at noon the day before. In today’s battle of generations, we would refer to it as an entitlement. It is interesting that this term, one I use often, particularly after hearing ok boomer, has actually devolved into a negative term. Being entitled means being rightfully owed something. This would infer that you did something, belonged to something, or paid for something to receive this entitlement. Keep that in mind as we meander through this sensitive topic.

I spend hours each day in research and communications with Warriors and on Warrior subjects, world politics, and cultures. One thing I have learned is that when you give something to someone, it can lessen its value and not always help the receiver. Let’s take this example. Many Warrior nonprofits, including the one I founded back in 2010, provide financial assistance for those in need. Most are no questions asked once their military status is verified. Most come with zero conditions, just a check. We didn’t do that.

We received hundreds of requests for financial assistance, sometimes ten a month. Not all were approved. In fact, less than half were likely approved. Why? Was I a heartless jerk? Well, yes, I am, but that isn’t the reason. Simply giving assistance only hides the symptoms, not the illness. When you break your leg, does a Dr just give you a Motrin? Well, military medics do that, but no. They realign the bone, figure out why it broke in the first place, like low calcium, abuse, neglect, negligent workplace safety, etc, then give you pain meds and a plan for recovery. So, if a Warrior asks for financial assistance, shouldn’t the nonprofit work to realign the financials, find out the cause of the financial issue and work to fix that? Yes.

So, that is what we did. We reviewed their finances, recommended a course of action and put them in touch with a financial advisor to help get well. I communicate with Warriors all the time who are pissed because “I applied for financial assistance at 4 different places and was turned down.” That’s because they know that just giving you money without providing any assistance in helping you fix the problem is really just throwing good charitable donations down the proverbial crapper. Sorry. Everyone who donated to our foundation, over $500,000 worth, worked hard for that money and trusted me and the Board of Directors to use it to help Warriors. Covering up the symptoms and not addressing the cause is not helping. We don’t combat poverty around the world by just giving people money. We provide them with job opportunities, education, and training, daycare so they can work, proper health care so they can work, housing, etc.

So, why is this so hard and such a sensitive subject? I am sure just hearing that I denied my brothers and sisters financial aid in their darkest hour has made you a little peeved at me. Don’t our men and women who have served deserve the best of everything that we can give them? Hmm. (I hear Ranger panties bunching). In a sense. yes. In a sense, no. I want to remind my brethren that we signed up for a noble cause, correct? To serve our country, protect our freedoms, follow in parent’s footsteps, be the change we wanted to see, etc.? And after that service, because of that service, some are unable to easily transition back to the community from whence we came due to injuries or illnesses. Some, unfortunately, are a product of Learned Helplessness. This is the ebola-ridden free chicken.

So, how does Learned Helplessness equate to this subject? Well, what does our society teach our men and women who serve and what do they teach others in their situation? First, our Nation is wonderful at offering free-chicken for our men and women in uniform, awesome. Well, not completely. This continues the process of Learned Helplessness. We learn that we should be getting discounts at Home Depot, no, Lowes is better, free airline tickets, free ball game tickets, and half off an appetizer at our local pub. Don’t get me wrong, this is a great attempt by our Nation to help those who have served. The problem is, we think we are entitled to that stuff as time goes on because that is all we know and think we have no control over it. In a forum the other day, I heard someone indicate you should write your Congressman because Home Depot didn’t give him a discount when he self-checked out. What? Another brother went to a manager because they didn’t give a discount because he didn’t have any ID to verify it. Part of pretty much everyone’s policy. Duh?

We know that there are huge holes in the VA system from the initial determination to compensation to the medical care provided. So, we as a Nation have decided to throw more money at the problem. Eventually, some of the symptoms that the service member has, go away with this assistance. But, it is not the right way to address or fix the problems and provide sustainability for our Warriors. In flush times, when donors and the VA can afford to throw money at the problem, no problem. But when times turn tough, and that money dries up, the Warrior is now doubly in danger, not able to provide on their own and no longer receiving external support. Free chicken can also create perverse incentives, where your efforts are better spent seeking to receive something like a charitable gift rather than obtaining something on your own work. If we don’t empower Warriors to stand on their own, we create a divide between us, something neither side of the equation wants.

When I signed my enlistment papers, and every reenlistment thereafter, I didn’t see the promise of discounted lumber or chicken wings. So, can we as Veterans, despite our Nation offering this stuff, PLEASE stop demanding it? We are not entitled to it. We earned and are entitled to a pension, VA compensation, health care and some other things based on our service and disabilities. We earned a holiday, some earned two. We, ourselves are teaching ourselves Learned Helplessness. If we don’t get that free airline ticket to go to a Packers game, we are beside ourselves and slam the airlines. Then, we don’t work enough on learning how to pay for our own airline ticket so we falter, then we NEED financial assistance. It’s not quite that simple and quick, but this blog is only so long. The bottom line, people offer, we demand, we falter. The more you are given, the more you expect to be given, the less you will work for it yourself. Then, when you can’t work for it yourself, you develop other co-morbid issues like depression and it gets worse.

Where else do we learn this? Well, in Chapter 2, the military provides almost everything you need. Food, clothing, housing, training, education, guidance, money, 401k, along with shitty vacations to foreign lands and a bunch of missed birthdays and lost relationships. If the Army wanted you to have that, we would have issued it to you. We work hard for it. I mean hard. Stupid long hours, stupid hard work, stupid environmental conditions. But, we learned that they will provide. What they didn’t teach us as we transitioned into Chapter 3, is that you now have to provide all this yourself. Too many get caught up in seeking their life through charity and the system. I read a half dozen comments in forums per day saying, I am 70% disabled, can’t afford to live, how do I get them to make me 100%? Yikes. Or, “I am P&T IU (permanent and total individually unemployable) have a job and they want to remove some of my benefits, why are they doing that?” See the problem here?

So, if you are still reading and not picketing outside my door because you are missing the intent, how do we fix this? First, the Transition Assistance Program offered in Chapter 2 needs to be aligned to self-sufficiency in Chapter 3. The military does not teach financial planning or accountability. Here is food allowance, housing allowance, and clothing allowance, with no checks on whether the service member is using it correctly on those things. More often than not, not. It’s a cool stereo, fast car or jacked up truck, a couple of guns and ramen noodles. I loved ramen noodles and had a banging stereo system. Leadership at all levels needs to teach how to budget, plan and obligate funds and minimize expenses.

Next, we as Veterans MUST stop thinking that the worlds owe us for our service. It doesn’t. I raised my own hand of my own free will for my own reasons, repeatedly, willingly, without the thought of free chicken. So did you. Just stop. I get what we all went through, although everyone is different. But I know I NEVER expected nor do I ever ask for a Veteran’s discount. Many notices because I have a USAA card and offer, and I accept, graciously. You managed to make it through the hell of military service, you can make it through the self-stated easier civilian life. We claim that civilians have a life so much easier, yet so many of us are failing at it when it is our turn.

What can the rest of our community do to help? Keep offering free wings with a side of blue cheese, I love wings, hotter the better. No, wait. Offering discounts on stuff is great, I honestly thank you from the bottom of my obviously cold, steel heart. It does make us feel better and I know it makes you feel good too. Kudos to you. I know you work hard for your money and sharing that with us is most honorable and appreciated. Just make sure that if you are donating to charities, they are doing good with it. And if you are one of the awesome people running a nonprofit out there, make sure you are empowering Veterans with your assistance, not causing Learned Helplessness.

This installment likely pissed off a bunch of Warriors and confused a bunch of civilians. Again, the intent is to enable Veterans to sustain in Chapter 3, thrive in the community. Some can’t due to the devastating injuries the military service provides occasionally. Many can but are caught up in the cycle of Learned Helplessness. Some will just ride those glory days to the VA grave. Most will survive, sustain and thrive, particularly if given the tools. Can’t build a house on charity. You need a hammer and nails and stuff. Drop the free chicken, grab your hammer and nails boys and girls!!

—SGM DTB—

Why Junior Won’t Take His Nap

Oh to sleep! I know that many of you just closed your eyes and sighed because you wish you could. I have always loved sleep even when it hasn’t always loved me. The first time I understood that Warriors have issues sleeping was watching MASH. All the characters, totally exhausted, chose not to sleep due to combat-related nightmares. I then recognized it in one of my Majors, after an OEF deployment, likely Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, who was struggling with sleep and always tired. So, what’s the big deal if we don’t sleep? I’ll sleep when I’m dead. I’ll make it up later.

Why don’t Warriors sleep? The physiological and psychological reasons are many. Sleep issues for Warriors start in their training. Early in Chapter 2, we are taught to sleep lightly so we can be ready to go at a moment’s notice; to be on the razor’s edge even while asleep.

In our tactical training, in Chapter 2, we have a “rest plan.” It really should be called an awake plan, because its purpose is to maintain security, a task only done awake. We sleep in shifts depending upon the “threat.” 50% of personnel awake at all times was a normal rest plan. This meant that you and your battle buddy would rotate sleeping all night long, usually in one-hour shifts. If we slept in a tent with an open flame stove, such as the Yukon stove or Space, Heater Arctic, someone had to be awake at all times; more one-hour shifts in our rest plan.

When we aren’t in a tactical training environment we still don’t get our eight hours of beauty rest. Headquarters offices at every level need manning, 24/7. That means lower ranking Warriors get to watch the phones not ring all night. The Charge of Quarters or CQ. We also put a CQ in our barracks to make sure we aren’t sneaking members of the opposite sex into the barracks or being a drunk fool. PS, the CQ never did his job. Higher ranking Warriors don’t have to be CQs. They get to be Staff Duty NCO or Staff Duty Officer. Same no sleep, different title. All these people get the next day off to catch up on their sleep.

In combat, well, forget sleep without meds. The operational tempo (OPTEMPO) is far higher. Longer days, more days, harsher conditions, no comfy beds and blankets, the rockets red glare, the bombs bursting in air, and higher physical demands all lend themself to sheer exhaustion. Sleep wherever and whenever you can, if you can, means no good pattern of sleep. Many of the recent Forward Operating Bases (FOB) and Combat Out Posts (COP) in Afganistan and the Firebases in Vietnam saw harassing fire, probes and attacks day and night, which is not part of the rest plan. A perfect environment to guzzle a half dozen energy drinks per day, though.

And just when thought it was going to get better, some lingering effects also start to rear their ugly head. The symptoms of PTSD, including nightmares, hypervigilance, flashbacks, and hyperarousal, all won’t let Junior take his nap. Injuries and amputations with real and phantom pain upset the normal sleep patterns on top of that.

So, let’s add up Chapter 2’s effects on Chapter 3. Trained to sleep poorly, sleep patterns routinely upset in garrison, training and in combat along with mental and physical scars to our rest plan equals a recipe for disaster, if nothing is done. So, let’s fix this by undoing what we learned and get about establishing a real rest plan.

We need to fix this. Poor sleep is responsible for numerous health problems such as heart disease, mental health illness, and neurological disorders to name a few. Poor sleep results in poor performance at work, in physical activity like working out or competitive sports, in communication with friends and families and virtually every action we participate in every day. So, screwing with the most important part of the day affects the rest of our day, greatly.

So, what do we need to do to rest in Chapter 3? I can tell you that self-medicating is not the answer. Some Warriors self-medicate with alcohol. Ok, that was a lie. A LOT self-medicate with their friends Bud and Jack. That is unconsciousness, not rest. Booze is also a depressant which just exacerbates an already bad situation. This rest plan speeds us downstream to desperation and loss of hope. So let’s forget what we learned, fix what we can and get real rest.

Learn to sleep, deeply. We can work on this in a few ways. We no longer need to sleep lightly. Allow yourself the right to sleep soundly. The enemy is no longer right outside the wire. Next, turn off tech to stop the mind from being barraged by lights and sounds and angry Facebook rants before bed. Then, turn on tech. White noise, cricket sounds or running water are great ways to allow your ears to be alert while not hearing all the little creaks and groans of your apartment that wake you.

Read before bed or use a guided meditation app. Both good ways to wind down. I’ve fallen asleep numerous times merely moments into using this app. And don’t read war studies at bedtime and bring up bad thoughts. I read nothing but non-fiction most of my life. I now read fiction, garbage, so I don’t have to think at all, allowing my mind to just relax. Start off by shooting for only how many hours you think you can sleep soundly, then get up and sit quietly elsewhere.

The bed is for rest, not tv, not eating, not social media. If you make bed a place of rest, a sanctuary of peace, your body will recognize that and work on that pattern positively. If you make it a place to watch WWE for two hours, it will develop a bad pattern as well. Zero stimulation is the goal. Some do, however, recommend exercising right before bed to tire you out. That may work for some, not for others who do intense workouts or get really amped up while working out. Light stretching only is the best recommendation.

Ditch the booze and pick up prescribed sleep meds or over the counter meds used appropriately, if necessary, to help get into a pattern. These things are ok to help get you and keep you asleep. We aren’t looking to be knocked down like a tranquilized rhino. Just enough. Work with your medical professional on what works best for you. Did I mention ditch the booze? Booze affects your liver, which is responsible for good hormones. Mess with and it will pay you back like a liberty weekend in the Philippines. Reduced liver function is responsible for poor sleep. Everything in moderation boys and girls.

And finally, get the best bed and bedding you can afford. You should be spending close to 1/3 of your day on that thing, invest wisely. You spend tens of thousands on a vehicle, guns, gear, eating out, etc., so don’t cheap out on the most important part of your day.

Sleeping soundly will greatly improve your mental and physical well-being in every Chapter of life. So, if you want to get up up each morning ready to take on the day and kick some ass, you have to go to sleep, soundly, first. This installment was a little long, on purpose. I, and science, say proper sleep is the key to a healthy life, no matter the Chapter! Sleep well, my friends.

—SGM DTB—