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—
Feel free to leave a comment about your thoughts on this subject!