As the days stretched out, I knew an apology would be in order. An acknowledgment to everyone who asked me when I was going to post again. I'd planned to beg your forgiveness with humor and stories of summer fun, offered up as excuse and explanation.
I did not intend to be writing this post, at nearly 2am, from an army bunk, typed out on the tiny screen of my phone.
I am doing what national guardsmen universally call "summer camp". Sometimes it's a miserable experience, and the comparison to a childhood adventure is darkly humorous. Sometimes it really *does* feel like summer camp: fun roommates, card games, laughing until tears roll down your aching cheeks, your sides cramp, and your heartrate monitor records the whole thing as exercise.
This year has been one of the good ones. The training has been interesting, the company riotously funny, and even the food has been outstanding. But this afternoon, a message landed in my inbox which seemed ominous from the start: a dear old army buddy, saying "I need you to call me ASAP".
For far too many of us, those messages have come to mean one thing: a "battle buddy" has taken his own life.
It's been in the news a lot lately: those "22 veterans a day". As near as I can tell, most people think of it as the cost of doing business; a damned shame, but nothing we can really do about it. They put it out of their minds, and go on about their day. But the nature of the military means that for every one of those 22, dozens, if not hundreds, of other veterans are dealt the sucker punch of knowing that someone they led, someone they followed, someone they shared those best and worst days with, a bearer of shared summer camp stories (the flooded tent, the pile-up in Wyoming, the rented jeep in the mountains of Utah, the misprinted Uno deck that we made do with), is gone forever. He isn't the first. We hope against hope he's the last.
I am so fortunate. One word from me, and my unit members showed me the meaning of "closing ranks around" someone. I called out a request for support, and saw it answered from every direction. I want all of them to have the same.
I've said it before. I will say it again: if you are struggling, reach out. I am here, and I promise, I'm not the only one. Help will come to you, if you ask. Call me, call another friend, call the Veterans Crisis Line, at 1-800-273-8255. Just call SOMEONE.
Old friend, I miss you. It hurts like hell tonight. My thoughts are with your family. Tomorrow (or, rather, later on today) I will stand in front of a group of soldiers, and try to teach them skills to make them more resilient. It's a course I love to teach. This one will be in your honor. Godspeed.
