Why Our Veterans Dont Fit In

Brett Valette, Ph.D.

The dark green SUV rolled toward the overpass. Inside were three people, dressed casually,
inconspicuous.
The driver was hyper-alert; the result of years of training. He had spotted them a ways back, but now
the two cars dogged the SUV as it began to slow. The SUV drivers eyes were wide, searching; his
fingers tightened on the steering wheel. The path looked clear up ahead, but there was the bridge.
He entered the danger zone. The car behind suddenly floored the gas and sped up along side the SUV.
Get down! the driver screamed. Down. The SUV lurched forward, speeding now toward the
opposite side of the bridge leaving the other car behind. With his right hand, the driver forced the two
people down in the back seat, pushing their heads below the seat. Stay low!
With pin-point laser intensity he sped toward safety...off the bridge. His hand frantically searched the
center console - his .45, where was it? Out the corner of his eye he spied the car now gaining on him.
With practiced speed and aggression the driver of the SUV jerked the wheel to the left cutting off the
car and successfully thwarting any close attack. The end of the bridge was near. The driver was blaring
his horn.
Where was back-up? He was close to panic with the realization that he was over the bridge! Finally. No
IEDs, no bombs, no mortar attacks. He had made it. The violent surge of of adrenaline had saved him,
again.
Sweat trickled down his neck and he allowed himself a breath. Whimpering floated into his ears from
the back seat, and the battle scene before him vanished. The whimpering turned to crying: Take us
home, Daddy.
Sergeant Steven Swift pulled the SUV onto the shoulder of the parkway next to the sign that read 'Bass
Pro Shop-Next Right'. He was breathing hard, the adrenaline now turning to fear. He turned around and
spied his two scared kids huddled on the floor.
This is a true story. It was told to me in a session with a recent Iraq War Vet. And this story is not rare.
The situations may change. The people are different. But the frightening experiences stay the same. The
soldier may have left the war, but the war has not left the soldier.
The common message: I want to go back to Iraq.
I was hearing a message on the TV news. It was the same message I was hearing from recent war vets
who were home. It didnt matter if they were wounded. They wanted to go back to Iraq. It didnt matter
that they had finished three tours, they wanted to go back. It didnt matter that their family was
splintering apart and their marriage was failing. They wanted to go back.

This was puzzling to me. Why were these soldiers so willing to return to Iraq. In fact, requesting to go
back, into the Danger Zone? A patriotic, selfless desire to serve and protect their country, is what
many news commentators, commanding officers, and politicians would have you believe. To fight for
freedom and protect the citizens of the United States and defeat terrorism, is the standard mantra. And
Im not discounting any of that for some soldiers. But its more than that. And its deeper than that. And
its scarier than that.
These solders want to go back not just because its their duty, but also, because they dont fit in back
home.
When I got back from Iraq, one sergeant told me, I felt like a total stranger. Like I was walking
around with a big secret, and I was the only one who knew it. No one in your family knows what its
like to kill children and women and men. I do. And you cant share it with any of them, they look at
you like youre crazy. I was separate, isolated from everyone else.
That separate isolation probably kept that soldier alive in war. But now its killing him back home.
In Iraq, these brave soldiers knew who they were, they knew their job, and they knew what needed to
be done. When they returned home, they still felt the need to do what needs to be done. And they cant.
Were expected to flip a switch in our brains and become civilians. One day youre a killing machine,
next day youre a father again. I just cant.
The fight that was in the battlefield, is now in their heads. I just cant turn off the Iraq experience.
When I get frustrated with drivers on the road, or some kid manager in Walmart tells me I need a
receipt to return something, I go immediately to violence.
I ruled over there. A soldier shared with me. I was in charge. My mission was to protect civilians
and kill anyone who interferes. Over there, the people treat you like a hero everyday of the week. Its a
huge rush! In Iraq, I did what ever I wanted. I made the decisions.
All of that is lost once the soldier arrives back home.
One Veteran I spoke to was a machine gunner. His job was to clear the enemy with machine gun fire so
his fellow soldiers were safe. Now, working at Home Depot, hes ordered around by a twenty
something high school grad, whos only experience with war is from Avatar. Whenever he tells me to
do something, I just want to punch him out, the Vet confessed to me. I was a gunner. I repaired
Humvees in the field. Now Im being ordered around by a kid. The soldier spoke to me with shame,
depression and extreme isolation.
The loss of identity is crippling to many of these young vets. Instead of violence, some control their
impulses with substance abuse.
They may be home with their families, but their spirit is still trapped within a war. Coming home from
a tour should be a joyous reunion; for many its divorce.

These soldiers want to go back because in Iraq they knew who they were, and they knew exactly what
needed to be done. They were trained to be a soldier. Their young minds were forced to change in order
to survive. It really was kill or be killed. But how do you turn that off when your job is over?
For many soldiers they cant, and they dont. It becomes the battlefield in their mind: On a routine
drive to the store for milk, they are still watching, searching for road side bombs. They enter the store
with apprehension, near paranoia, because the crowd could hold a suicide bomber. The roar of a traffic
copter, the smell of diesel fuel, a back fire of an automobile and that soldier is back there instantly, in
the battlefield, the
All the experiences from boot camp, training missions, the war, all of it is seared into their memory,
into their conscious mind and all of it is brought right back to America. And they cant shake it. That
veteran in Walmart is still in Iraq.
And since the veteran soldier cant relieve the tension or fear by neutralizing an enemy, it all gets
bottled up inside. The soldier is like a shook up bottle of Coke, except the cap doesnt stay on. The
soldier explodes at the wife, the children, the boss, the cashier, the guy who pulls out in front of him in
traffic. Simple day to day frustrations are met with violence.
Many have given away their weapons out of fear of killing. The killing used to be justified. Now its
called homicide and prison would be waiting.
Some young soldiers come back to the US tormented by impulses that have become second nature
while on the streets of Iraq; reinforced by fear and pride. And now what? They have nowhere to
discharge those impulses, so they take their own lives. Men and women who served their country
bravely and heroically and completed their missions, only to kill themselves.
Some just live lives of cruel isolation.
The Army has set up a Wounded Warrior Program for returning soldiers. Its a treatment program
designed to treat the psychologically wounded vet. Soldiers returning from a deployment are minimally
evaluated or reviewed. However, many soldiers are too proud (or scared ) to admit they have a
psychological problem, or that the war affected them.
One veteran who was experiencing horrible nightmares, suicidal thoughts and severe depression, told
me that as soon as he asked for a psychological evaluation his commanding officer told him he was
worthless and no good to the Army. The soldier confessed that this callous treatment by a superior
sank him further into depression and despair and he now felt crippling guilt because he was letting
down his unit and his country.
A common message among soldiers and commanding officers is: War changes people. Live with it.
The Wounded Warrior Program can be lifesaving in helping soldiers back to normal lives. But the
stigma of asking for help needs to be eliminated. The message now needs to be: War changes people.
You dont have to live with it.

The first step to living a fulfilling life after the war is to be brutally honest with yourself. When your
wife or husband or family is telling you that something is wrong...they are not making it up.
Get an evaluation and get the treatment that will prevent you from sitting in isolation. You dont have to
live with it.
To become a warrior the training is long, hard, mind shaping and lifesaving. In war, what you do is who
you are: You are a warrior. You defend your unit and your fellow soldiers against the enemy. In war,
every morning is greeted with the mantra: Today I have to kill so I can live.
On returning from a tour of duty, there is no back to civilian life training; no transition program. That
mantra to kill to survive is still living in their heads and in their actions and in their automatic
responses. Its like breathing. And now that soldier is told not to breathe.
Last week in Iraq those actions were lifesaving and right. Now those thoughts and feelings and actions
are wrong.
There needs to be a transition program to help these soldiers, a decompression time after a tour of duty.
There is none. And I dont know of any research that has evaluated that type of intervention. To throw a
highly trained warrior right back into civilian life is cruel and dangerous.
Is it possible to train a young person to be a warrior, and then expect them to be simply shed all of their
traumatic experience when they return to civilian life? Is it possible to bring light to the dark secret that
many of them hide?
We need our soldiers to protect us, but we also need our soldiers to come back as fathers and mothers
and sons and daughters and brothers and sisters.
One of the first steps to becoming a fully functioning civilian and veteran is to get an objective,
professional psychological evaluation for any service connected disorder.
Then you can get the benefits and treatment you earned by your honorable military service to our
country.
011/2014
Brett Vallette, PhD
Dr. Brett Valette is a clinical psychologist who specializes in veteran evaluations, nexus letters and
reports. He works privately with each veteran who needs help.
Dr. Valette can be contacted at:
<bvalette@aol.com>
www.shrink911.net
www.globalhealthevaluations.com